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GEOLOGICAL   Si:MINARY„ 
Priuceton,  N.  J.- 


Il  CV/.St%     D'vision, 

%  Shelf',    Section. 


*'""■•  M^^u^^^m^ '^- 


"^"^tttH^^- 


■miit0m^ 


'^^^s*^-^^ 


A  SERIES 


OF 


DISCOURSES,  &c. 


I 


SERIES 


OP 


DISCOURSES, 


PBINCIPLES  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEF, 


AS    CONNECTED    \VIT« 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS 


AND 


IMPROVEMENT. 


BY 

THE  REV.  R.  MOREHEAD,  A.  M. 

OF  BALIOL  COLLEGE,  OXFORD,  JUNIOR  AIINISTER  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL 
CHAPEL,  COWGATE,  EDINBURGH. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

WRADFORD  8c  INSKEEP,  PHILADELPHIA;  INSKEEP  &  BR/VDFORD, 
NEW  YORK;  WILLIAM  M'lLHENNEY,  JUN.,  BOSTON;  COALE& 
THOMAS,  BALTIMORE;  AND  E.  MORFORD,  WILLINGTOX,  8c  CO., 
CHARLESTON. 

PRINTED  BY.  T.  <^  O.  PALMER,  PHILADELPHIA. 
1810. 


debIcItion.  , .       f 


THE  HEVEREND  A.  ALISON, 

LL.  B.  F.  R.  S.  LOND.  AND  EUINf. 

PREBENDARY  OF  SARUM,  &c.  &c.  AND  SENIOR  MINISTKU  Of   THK^ 
EPISCOPAL  CHAPEL,  COWGATE,  EDlNJJURCill. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, 

I  HAVE  preached  about  philosophy  a  jul  philo- 
sophers, till  I  am  tired  of  the  very  names  ;  and, 
of  course,  my  congregation  must  he  still  more  tired 
tha?i  myself  There  are  people,  however,  who 
may  derive  some  benefit  from  reading  upon  these 
subjects, — ivhicJi  are  in  fact  better  adapted  for 
the  closet  than  the  pulpit ;  and  a  reader  possesses 
at  least  one  advantage  over  a  listener, — whenever 
fie  is  wearied,  he  can  take  the  liberty  to  silence  his 
instructor. 

Ton  were  good-natured  enough  to  give  very 
unmerited  praise  to  several  of  these  discourses 
when  they  ivere  preached ;  but  I  do  not  mean  to 
impose  upon  the  public,  by  saying,  that  you  recoin- 
mended  me  to  print  them.  Indeed  you  carry  your 
dislike  to  the  publication  of  sermons  someivhat  too 
far,   otherwise  the  world  would  long  ago   Jiavr 


VI  DEDICATION. 

been  in  possession  of  some,  which  probably  unite 
the  utile  and  the  dulce,  more  than  any  others 
which  were  ever  written. 

Should  I  fail  in  my  presefit  attempt,  it  would  yet 
afford  me  some  consolation,  if  you  might  thence  be 
induced  to  come  forward  in  the  great  cause  of  ge- 
nuine Christianity,  and  to  dissetninate  that  instruc- 
tion in  morals  and  religion,  which  you  have 
already  given  with  so  much  ability  in  criticism 
and  taste.  Achilles  was  roused  from  his  retreat 
when  Patroclus  fell. 

At  all  events,  I  am  happy  in  this  opportunity 
of  expressing,  my  dear  sir,  the  high  sense  which 
I  entertain  of  your  virtues  and  endowments,  and 
of  subscribing  myself,  your  faithful  colleague,  and 
affectionate  friend, 

ROB.  MOREHEAD. 


^ 


I 


PREFACE 


It  has  been  my  design,  in  the  following  dis- 
courses, to  exhibit  a  view  both  of  the  evidences 
and  the  effects  of  religious  belief,  somewhat 
more  simple  and  popular  than  has  usually  been 
attempted ;  and  without  fatiguing  the  reader 
with  controversy,  or  overwhelming  him  with 
facts,  to  fix  his  attention  upon  those  great  prin- 
ciples, both  in  the  constitution  of  man,  and  in 
the  visible  administration  of  Providence,  that 
seem  to  lead  most  directly  to  a  sense  of  the 
truth  and  the  benefits  of  religion. 

Much  has  been  written,  both  recently  and  in 
older  times,  upon  this  most  important  of  all  sub- 
jects ;  and  the  grounds  of  our  faith  have  been 
vindicated  by  many  eminent  divines  and  philo- 
sophers, with  a  force  of  reasoning  and  an  extent 
of  learning,  to  which  nothing,  it  is  probable,  can 
now  be  added  or  replied.  These  profound  and 
argumentative  writers,  however,  are  not  always 
intelligible,  and  are  but  rarely  attractive,  to  the 


Vlll  PREFACE. 


multitude  whom  they  would  reclaim  from  error ; 
and  vainly  multiply  their  proofs  and  refutations, 
to  an  audience  whom  they  have  not  engaged  to 
be  attentive. 

To  me  it  has  always  appeared,  that  the  great- 
er part  of  those  who  are  indifferent  to  the  truths 
of  religion,  have  been  left  in  this  state  rather 
through  an  indolent  misapprehension  of  its  true 
nature  and  general  foundations,  than  from  the 
eifect  of  any  positive  error,  or  false  creed  of 
philosophy.  Controversy,  or  formal  argument, 
therefore,  will  have  but  little  effect  upon  them ; 
and  their  cure  is  to  be  effected,  not  by  topical 
applications  of  detailed  proof,  or  special  refuta- 
tion, but  by  the  general  tonics  of  more  enlight- 
ened and  comprehensive  views,  as  to  the  nature 
of  man  and  of  the  universe, — arguments  that 
point  out  the  connection  and  consonancy  be- 
tween religion  and  all  that  we  know  or  feel  of 
existence, — and  reflections  which  tend  to  culti- 
vate those  dispositions  which  lay  the  foundations 
of  religious  belief,  not  only  in  our  understand- 
ing, but  our  affections. 

It  has  sometimes  appeared  to  me  also,  that 
many  of  our  orthodox  writers  have  assumed  too 
severe  and  contemptuous  a  tone  towards  those 
whom  they  laboured  to  convert ;  and  have  em- 
ployed a  certain  haughty  sternness  of  manner. 


PREFACE.  IX 

which  is  not  perhaps  ahogether  suitable  to  the 
mildness  of  the  gospel  of  peace,  and  which  has 
at  any  rate  an  obvious  tendency  to  indispose 
many  from  listening  to  their  instructions.  The 
antagonists  of  religion,  accordingly,  have  not 
failed  to  take  advantage  of  these  errors ;  and 
have  spared  no  pains  to  render  their  productions 
smooth,  easy,  and  agreeable.  "  Fas  est  et  ab 
hoste  doceri ;^^  and  there  really  seems  to  be  no 
reason  why  the  children  of  this  world  should 
always  be  wiser  in  their  generation,  than  the 
children  of  light ! 

Such  is  the  object  of  these  discourses  :  of  the 
execution  the  public  must  judge.  I  have  ven- 
tured to  give  them  the  title  of  "  a  series ;"  be- 
cause, though  they  were  written  at  different 
times,  and  without  any  precise  view  to  their 
present  arrangement,  they  seem  to  have  such  a 
mutual  coherence  and  dependency,  as  to  be 
read  with  advantage  in  the  order  in  which  they 
now  stand.  At  all  events,  it  is  hoped,  they 
will  appear  to  possess  at  least  that  "  uniformity 
of  thought  and  design  which  (to  use  the  words 
of  the  admirable  Butler)  will  always  be  found 
in  the  writings  of  the  same  person,  when  he 
writes  with  simplicity,  and  in  earnest." 

R.  M. 

Edinburgh^  17 th  December^  1808. 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON  I, 

On  the  Character  of  Religion, 

1  Kings,  xix.  12. 
And  after  the  fire,  a  still  small  voice         -  -  Page  1 

SERMON  11. 

On  the  Character  oj*  Scripture, 

St.  John,  v.  39. 
Search  the  Scriptures  -  .  -  -  9 

SERMON  III. 

0?t  the  Character  of  Wisdom, 

Prov.  xvii.  24. 
Wisdom  is  before  him  that  hath  understanding,  but  the  eyes  of  a  fool 
are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth  -  -  -  17 

SERMON  IV. 

On  the  Character  of  Faith. 

St.  John,  xx.  29. 
Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me,  thou  hast  be- 
lieved ;  blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed  25 

SERMON  V. 

On  Natural  Religion, 

St.  John,  xiv.  8. 
Philip  saith  unto  him.  Lord,  show  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us    34i 


u  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  VI. 
On  Revealed  Religion, 

St.  John,  xiv.  9. 
Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast 
thou  not  known  me,  Philip  ?    He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the 
Father;  and  how  sayest  thou,  then, Show  us  the  Father  ?      Page  42 

SERMON  VII. 

The  Nativity  of  Christ. 

St.  Matthew,  ii.  11. 
And  when  they  were  entered  into  the  house,  they  saw  the  young  child^ 
with  Mary  his  mother  -  -  51 

SERMON  VIII. 

On  Man  as  a  Ratio?ial  and  Moral  Being. 

Job,  xxxii.  8. 
But  there  is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth 
them  understanding  -  -  -  .        60 

SERMON  IX. 

On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being. 

Job,  xxxii.  8. 
But  there  is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth 
them  understanding  -  -  -  -  68 

SERMON  X. 

Proofs  of  Immortality  from  Reason. 

2  Tim.  i.  10. 

,\nd  hath  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gosijel       ITS 

SERMON  XI. 

Proofs  of  Immortality  from  Revelation. 

2  Tim.  i.  10. 
And  hatli  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gospel      S6 

SERMON  XII. 

On  the  Resurrection  of  the  Dead, 

Ez K.KIEL,  xxxvii.  3. 
And  he  said  unto  me,  Son  of  man,  can  these  bone«i  live  ?  And  I  answer- 
ed, O  Lord  God,  thoa  knowest  •  -  95 


CONTENTS.  xiu 

SERMON  XIII. 

The  Temporal  Advantages  of  Christiantty, 
Ephesians,  iv.  8. 
Wherefore  he  saith,  when  he  ascended  up  into  high,  he  led  captivity 
captive,  and  gave  gifts  unto  men  -  -  Page  103 

4 

SERMON  XIV. 

The  Superior  Importance  of  Moral  Duties* 
St.  Matthkw,  ix.  13. 
But  go  ye,  and  learn  v?hat  that  meaneth;  I  will  have  mercy,  and  not 
sacrifice  ...  Ill 

SERMON  XV. 

Connection  of  Morality  and  Religion, 

Hebrkws,  X.  38. 
Now  the  just  shall  live  by  faith  -  -  119 

SERMON  XVI. 
The  same  Subject  Illustrated  by  the  Character  of  the 
Good  Centurion. 
St.  Matthew,  viii.  8. 
The  centurion  answered  and  said,  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that  thou 
shouldst  come  under  my  roof ;  but  speak  the  word  only,  and  my  ser- 
vant shall  be  healed  -  -  >  126 

SERMON  XVII. 

On  Christian  Charity,  as  it  Influences  our  Judgments  of 
each  other, 
St.  Matthew,  vii,  1. 
Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  -  -  135 

SERMON  XVIII. 
On  Christian  Charity,  as  it  Influences  Conduct, 

St.  John,  xiii.  34. 
A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you,  that  ye  love  one  another         144 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  XIX. 
On  the  Lessons  to  be  learned  from  the  Afflictions  of 

Life. 

ECCLESIASTES,  vii.  2. 

It  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than  to  the  house  of  feasting  j 
for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and  the  livings-will  lay  it  ^  his  heart 

Page  150 
SERMON  XX. 

On  Religious  Consolation  in  Affliction^  exetnplified  in  the 
Case  of  the  Death  of  Children, 

St.  Matthew,  ii.  18. 
In  Rama  was  there  a  voice  heard,  lamentation,  and  weeping,  and  great 
mourning  ;  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,  and  would  not  be  com- 
forted, because  they  are  not  -  -  159 

SERMON  XXI. 

On  Religious  Education. 

Pruv.  xxii.  6. 
Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will 
not  depart  from  it  -  -  -  167 

SERMON  XXII. 

On  Religious  Education, 

St.  John,  xiv.  15. 

if  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments  -  178 

SERMON  XXIII. 

On  Religious  Rites, 

1  Cor.  xi.  26. 
For  as  oft  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the 
Lord's  death  till  he  come  .  _  -  187 

V 
SERMON  XXIV, 

On  Religious  kites, 

Isaiah,  vi.  7. 
And  he  laid  it  upon  my  mouth,  and  said,  Lo,  this  hath  touched  thy  lips, 
and  thine  iniquity  is  taken  away,  and  thy  sin  purged  197 


CONTENTS.  XV 

SERMON  XXV. 
On  Public  Worship, 

Psalm  c.  3. 
Enter  into  his  gates  with  thanksgiving,  and  into  his  courts  with  praise : 
be  thankful  unto  him,  and  bless  his  name  •  Page  204 

♦  SERMON  XXVI. 

On  Youthful  Piety, 

ECCLKSIASTES,  xii.  1. 

Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth ;  while  the  evil 
days  come  not,  nor  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  thou  shall  say,  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  them  -  -  -  211 

SERMON  XXVII. 

On  Redeeming  Time, 

Ephesians,  v.  16. 

Redeeming  the  time,  because  the  days  are  evil  -  219 

SERMON  XXVIII. 
Religious  Meditations, 

Rev.  i.  8. 
I  am  the  beginning  and  the  ending,  saith  the  Lord,  which  is,  and  which 
was,  and  which  is  to  come,  the  Almighty  -  228 


SERMON  I. 

Ox\  THE  CHARACTER  OF  RELIGION. 


1  KINGS,  xix.  12. 
**  And  after  thejire,  a  still  small  voice. ^^ 

J.  NEED  scarcely  remind  you,  my  brethren,  that  these 
are  the  concluding  words  of  tiuit  very  sublime  passage 
in  which  the  Divine  Presence  is  represented  as  being 
made  known  to  the  prophet  Elijah.  "  Go  forth,  and 
stand  upon  the  rnount  before  the  Lord.  And  behold  the 
Lord  passed  by,  and  a  great  and  strong  wind  rent  the 
mountains^  and  brake  in  pieces  the  rocks  before  the  Lord; 
but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  wind:  and  after  the  wind^ 
an  earthquake ;  but  the  Lord  xvas  not  in  the  earthquake: 
and  after  the  earthquake  afire;  but  the  Lord  was  not 
in  the  fire:  and  after  the  fire,  a  still  small  voice.  And 
it  was  so,  when  Elijah  heard  it,  that  he  wrapped  his  face 
in  his  mantle,  and  went  out,  and  stood  in  the  entering  in 
of  the  cave.'*^ 

A  passiige  of  this  kind  is,  in  itself,  an  evidence  of  the 
inspiration  of  Scripture.  All  the  circumstances  of  the 
description  are  in  a  style  of  thought  superior  to  the 
course  of  human  ideas,  and  appear  to  be  the  result  of 
those  lofty  conceptions  of  the  divine  nature  which  can 
be  communicated  only  by  the  Spirit  of  God.     The 

A 


2  The  Character  of  Religion. 

most  terrific  images  from  the  natural  world  are  first  in- 
troduced; but  they  are  introduced  merely  for  the  sake 
of  contrast,  and  to  heighten  the  mysterious  solemnity 
of  the  circumstance  which  follows.  The  prophet,  we 
may  suppose,  witnessed  the  great  and  strong  wind,  the 
earthquake,  and  the  fire,  with  emotions  suited  to  the 
contemplation  of  those  tremendous  ministers  of  ruin: 
yet  these  were  but  natural  agents,  parts  of  the  consti- 
tuted order  of  things;  the  servants,  not  the  Lord.  It 
was  not  till  the  "  still  small  voice''''  signified  the  presence 
of  another  Being, — of  a  Being  distinct  from  nature,  and 
speaking  with  the  composure  of  irresistible  power, 
amidst  all  the  confusion  and  havoc  of  the  elements,  that 
Elijah  is  described  as  having  felt  the  peculiar  emotion 
of  religious  awe, — that  he  "  wrapped  his  face  in  his  man- 
tle, and  went  out,  and  stood  in  the  entering  in  of  the 

But  to  dilate  upon  these  circumstances  would  tend 
rather  to  weaken  than  increase  their  effect.  It  will  be  a 
more  useful  employment  to  notice  some  views  of  reli- 
gion which,  by  an  easy  interpretation,  may  appear  to  be 
silently  pointed  at  in  this  remarkable  passage.  To  look 
for  hidden  meanings  in  the  Sacred  Writings  is,  indeed, 
in  most  instances,  both  idle  and  injudicious.  The 
imagination,  in  such  inquiries,  has  so  wide  a  field,  and 
may  so  readily  be  betrayed  into  delusive  views,  that  we 
ought  to  be  very  cautious  lest  we  fasten  upon  the  sim- 
plicity of  Scripture  the  wandering  reveries  of  an  enthu- 
siastic mind.  Yet,  in  some  passages,  more  may  be 
meant  than  meets  the  ear.  A  still  small  voice  may 
xvhisper  from  them  great  and  important  truths. 


The  Character  of  Religion.  3 

The  description  before  us  appears  to  me  to  contain  a 
beautiful  intimation  of  the  character  of  true  relij^ion,  as 
opposed  to  superstition  on  the  one  hand,  and  infidelity 
on  the  other.  In  the  first  of  these  aspects  we  may  sup- 
pose it  particularly  addressed  to  the  Jews,  who,  notwith- 
standing all  the  instructions  of  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
were  unaccountably  prone  to  the  lowest  and  most  con- 
temptible superstitions.  In  the  time  of  Elijan,  in  par- 
ticular, there  was  a  very  general  apostacy  from  the  true 
religion;  the  altars  of  God  were  deserted  for  those  of 
Baal.  *'  I  have  been  very  Jealous,''''  says  he,  "  for  the 
Lord  God  of  Hosts:  for  the  children  of  Israel  have  for- 
saken thy  covenant,  thrown  down  thine  altars,  and  slain 
thy  Prophets  with  the  sword,  and  I,  even  I  only  am  left.^^ 

Now,  the  rise  of  idolatry  and  superstition  may  very 
naturally  be  traced  to  that  disposition,  so  deeply  rooied 
in  unenlightened  minds,  of  supposing  every  part  of 
nature  to  be  endowed  with  sentiment  and  passion;  and, 
as  the  unity  and  connection  which  run  through  the 
whole  scheme  are  not  so  apparent  as  to  draw  the  atten- 
tion of  a  barbarian,  he  will  commonly  be  induced  to 
regard  every  detached  appearance  as  the  indication  of  a 
separate  being,  which,  according  to  the  character  of  his 
own  mind,  he  will  invest  with  gloomy  or  with  cheerful 
attril)utes.  It  is  likewise  a  feature  in  human  nature  to 
be  inattentive  to  what  is  common,  however  great  and 
stupendous  it  may  be  in  reality,  and  to  bestow  admiration 
only  on  what  is  new  and  surprising.  I'he  feeling  of 
dread  and  apprehension  too,  excited  by  unexpected 
exertions  of  terrible  power,  operates  on  the  muid  of 
uninstructed  man  far  more  powerfully  than  that  of  grati- 
tude for  familiar  and  accustomed  bounty ;  and  he  is 


4  The  Character  of  Tieligion, 

more  disposed  to  tremble  before  the  desitructive  energies 
of  nature,  than  to  confide  in  the  harmony  and  mildness 
of  its  ordinary  administration. 

Fiom  these  observations,  however  briefly  stated,  a 
reflecting  mind  will  easily  be  enabled  to  discover  in 
what  manner  a  plurality  of  gods  is  so  common  a  tenet 
in  the  superstition  of  barbarous  nations ;  why  the  Deity- 
is  rather  supposed  to  be  traced  in  the  irregular  convul- 
sions of  nature  than  in  its  steady  uniformity  ;  and  in 
what  way  the  mind  is  more  inclined  to  fix  on  the 
gloomy  and  horrible,  than  on  the  amiable  and  conciliat- 
ing vitws  of  religion.  The  force  of  these  remarks 
cannot  be  more  comprehensively  expressed  than  in  the 
imagery  of  the  passage  we  are  considering.  The  mind 
ol  uiiiutored  man  looks  for  its  gods  in  the  great  and 
strong  wind,  in  the  earthquake,  and  in  the  fire  ;  while 
it  is  deaf  to  the  still  small  voice  which  speaks  from  all 
the  corners  of  creation.  The  lesson  conveyed  to  the 
li:\\  s  in  this  description  was  therefore  of  the  most 
striking  kind.  God,  they  were  told,  was  not  in  the 
wind,  in  the  earthquake,  or  in  the  fire.  These  convul- 
sions of  nature,  however  stupendous,  were  not  to  be 
regarded  as  manifestations  of  Deity ;  still  less,  therefore, 
could  they  conceive  him  included  in  any  limited  bodily 
form.  Traces  of  him  they  might  find  everywhere ; 
but  he  himself  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  ''  Behold^"^* 
says  Job,  "  I  go  forward^  but  he  is  not  there;  and  back- 
ward, but  I  cannot  perceive  him  :  on  the  left  hand 
where  he  doth  work  but  I  cannot  behold  him :  he  hideth 
himself  on  the  right  hand,  tlmt  I  cannot  see  him. " — They 
wtrt,  in  fcict,  tod,  that  it  is  superstition  alone  which 
seeks  to  embody   the  Deity,  and  to  fix  him  in  any 


The  Character  of  'Religion.  5 

particular  department  of  his  works,  or  supposes  that  he 
is  chicfl\  to  be  found  in  the  midst  of  noise  and  fury  and 
desolation  ;  and  that  it  is  true  relii>ion  and  philosophy 
which  traces  through  all  the  mechanism  of  nature,  and 
in  all  the  course  of  events,  silent  marks  of  the  Divine 
hand;  which,  without  pretending  to  find  himself,  bends 
before  the  footsteps  of  Deity,  and  listens  with  sacred 
composure  to  the  still  small  voice  that  speaks  from  the 
harmony  and  order  of  the  universe. 

So  far,  then,  the  description  before  us  may  be  sup- 
posed to  reprove  idolatry  and  every  form  of  superstition, 
and,  in  this  light,  to  have  been  admirably  calculated  for 
the  instruction  of  that  people  to  whom  it  was  originally 
addressed.  But  it  may  convey  a  wider  lesson,  and  one 
more  adapted  to  a  philosophical  and  inquisitive  age,  Men 
are  not  now  much  disposed  to  see  God  in  the  w  ind,  in  the 
earthquake,  or  in  the  fire.  The  bent  of  the  present  times 
is  not  to  superstition.  Inquiries  are  made,  and  made 
with  admirable  success,  into  the  natural  causes  of  things; 
and  many  appearances  which,  to  the  mind  of  a  savage, 
might  seem  completely  miraculous,  are  discovered  to 
follow  from  the  common  laws  of  nature.  The  proper 
tendency  of  such  inquiries  is  to  throw  light  upon  the 
plan  of  the  universe;  to  discover,  the  farther  thev  are 
conducted,  more  traces  of  wisdom  and  benevolence  in 
nature,  and  to  confirm  the  proofs  of  religion.  But  on 
some  minds  they  have  a  different  elFect ;  and,  resting  in 
second  causes,  some  men  seem  to  overlook  the  existence 
of  the  Supreme  Cause  of  all.  Not  finding  him  in  the 
wind,  in  the  earthquake,  or  in  the  fire,  such  inquirers 
are  someiimes  led  to  conclude,  that  God  is  not  anywhere 
to  be  discovered  in  nature  ;  and  thus  philosophers  have 


6  The  Character  of  Religion. 

not  unfrequently  run  into  almost  the  same  delusion  with 
that  which  misleads  the  meanest  and  least  instructed 
barbarian. 

The  errors  of  both  proceed  on  the  same  gross  and  vul- 
gar conceptions  of  religion  ;  on  the  supposition  that 
God,  if  anywhere,  is,  in  a  manner,  to  be  seen  or  touch- 
ed. The  only  difference  is,  that  the  savage  fancies  he 
sees  him,  while  the  atheist  is  blind.  In  opposition  to 
both  these  delusions,  the  words  of  the  text  point  out 
beautifully  the  nature  of  the  proofs  for  religion.  "  Af- 
ter the  fire,  a  still  small  voice.''''  The  general  sentiment 
is,  thyt  God  does  not  obtrude  himself  on  our  notice. 
"  No  man  has  seen  God  at  any  time.'''*  Even  the  proofs 
for  his  existence  and  attributes,  however  irresistible 
when  attended  to,  are  not  of  such  a  nature  as  to  force 
themselves  on  the  careless  and  unthinking.  There  is  a 
voice,  indeed,  and  a  voice  which  may  at  all  times  be 
heard.  "  Day  unto  day  utter  eth  speech^  and  night  unto 
night  showeth  knowledge:  there  is  no  speech  nor  language 
where  their  voice  is  not  heard.''''  Yet  it  is  "  a  still  small 
voice.''^  In  fact,  too,  though  this  has  not  been  suffici- 
ently noticed,  it  is  always  heard,  but  men  do  not  always 
attend  to  its  import.  There  is  not  a  man  in  existence 
who  does  not  constantly  perceive,  and  invariably  act  up- 
on the  supposition  that  nature  is  an  established  system 
or  plan  ;  but  few  men  consider  as  they  ought,  and  some 
appear  to  forget  entirely,  that  a  plan,  by  the  very  force  of 
the  term,  implies  an  author  or  designer.  The  very  re- 
gularity of  nature,  the  very  constancy  of  its  laws,  makes 
us  lose  sight  of  Him  who  ordered  and  disposed  it.  The 
voice  is  so  unvarying  in  its  sound,  that  it  scarcely  affects 
the  ear. 


The  Character  of  Religion.  7 

The  lesson,  then,  my  brethren,  which  we  ought  to 
receive  from  this  fact  is,  that  the  proofs  of  religion  are  not 
hastily  and  presumptuously  to  be  judged  of.  Wherever 
the  voice  seems  to  sound,  wherever  to  the  ear  of  reason 
and  reflection  a  hint  on  this  important  subject  is  convey. 
ed,  let  man  listen  with  reverence,  and  be  ready  to  re- 
ceive instruction.  Let  him  not  vainly  suppose  that  the 
voice  has  ceased  to  sound  because  he  has  ceased  to  hear 
it;  that  the  language  of  nature  does  not  convey  the  same 
import,  although  he  has  forgot  the  interpretation. 

So  much  it  may  be  suificient  to  have  said  on  religion 
in  a  speculative  view ;  but  mere  speculative  views  of 
religion  are  of  no  importance  unless  they  lead  to  prac- 
tice. Religion,  as  it  influences  practice,  has  the  same 
general  character  which  we  have  attempted  to  explain  : 
here,  too,  it  is  "  a  still  small  voice.'*''  It  must  contend 
with  the  internal  convulsions  in  the  mind  of  man,  the 
fury  of  his  passions,  his  worldly  principles,  and  in- 
numerable corruptions.  It  must  oppose  the  seduction 
of  present  objects,  and  point  to  the  riches  of  futurity. 
No  wonder,  then,  my  brethren,  that  it  is  so  often  either 
not  heard  at  all,  or  heard  only  to  be  stifled  and  over- 
powered. Yet,  whether  we  hear  it  or  no,  it  still 
speaks,  and  will  make  itself  be  heard  at  one  time  or 
another.  It  will  be  heard  in  adversity  or  in  death,  if  it 
is  unattended  to  in  the  hours  of  prosperity,  and  in  the 
gay  presumption  of  life.  Or  even  if  we  should  suc- 
ceed in  drowning  its  voice  entirely  in  this  world,  it  will 
be  heard  to  speak  terrible  things  in  the  world  which  is 
to  come. 

How  important,  then,  is  the  endeavour  to  listen  now 
to  its  gentle  but  solemn  call ;  that  call  which  invites  us 


8  The  Character  of  Religion, 

to  tread  the  paths  of  peace  and  wisdom,  which  seeks  to 
win  our  souls  from  those  vanities  by  which  they  are 
misled,  and  points  to  honour  and  immortality  as  their 
true  pursuit  and  their  glorious  reward  !  To  those  who 
hear  the  call  and  obey  it,  it  will  prove  a  constant  source 
of  comfort.  Although  adversity  may  assail,  and  friends 
forsake  them,  yet  the  voice  which  they  cheerfully  fol- 
low will  speak  peace  and  consolation  to  their  hearts. 
As  they  advance  in  life,  and  see  more  of  the  plan  of 
Providence,  its  sounds  will  continually  become  clearer 
and  more  distinct ;  on  the  bed  of  death  they  will  swell 
into  a  note  of  triumph ;  and,  finally,  in  better  worlds 
will  be  heard  to  utter  those  welcome  words  :  "  JVell 
doney  good  and^  Jaithjul  servant^  thou  hast  been  faithful 
over  a  few  things  I  will  make  thee  ruler  over  many 
things:  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord," 


SERMON  II. 

ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  SCRIPTURE 


ST.  JOHN,  V.  29. 

"  Search  the  Scriptures,'*^ 

"  THE  heavens^'*'*  says  the  psalmist,  "  declare 
the  glory  of  God^  and  the  firmament  shoxveth  his  handy  ^ 
work.'*'*  This  is  the  universal  revelation  which  "  is 
gone  out  through  all  the  earth.,  and  to  the  e?id  of  the 
•world."*^  To  us  who,  from  our  earliest  years,  have  been 
taught  to  observe  those  manifestations  of  Deity,  they 
seem  to  be  so  simple,  so  beautiful,  and  so  conclusive, 
that  we  are  sometimes  disposed  to  undervalue  every 
other  source  of  religious  instruction.  When  we  reflect, 
however,  my  brethren,  it  cannot  but  occur  to  us,  that 
those  traces  of  the  divine  hand,  which  to  us  appear  so 
distinct,  are  beheld  without  any  emotion  by  the  greatest 
portion  of  the  human  race ;  that  the  sun  rises  upon 
many  regions  without  reminding  the  unthinking  inha- 
bitants of  that  eternal  fountain  of  light  from  whence  he 
sprung;  and  that  the  savage  may  say  of  the  book  of 
nature,  as  he  has  said  of  the  book  of  revelation,  that- 
'*  it  speaks  not  to  him."  Nor  can  we  ascribe  it  to 
the  progress  of  reason  and  philosophy  alone  that  the 
simple  truths  of  natural  religion  arc  so  clearly  discerned 


10  The  Character  of  Scripture. 

by  our  eyes ;  for  there  have  been  ages  before  us,  dis- 
tinguished for  the  highest  mental  superiority  ;  ages  to 
which  we  still  look  back  with  reverence  approaching  to 
adoration,  that  yet,  in  point  of  religious  knowledge  or 
sentiment,  were  scarcely  at  all  advanced  beyond  the 
miserable  ignorance  and  superstition  of  barbarians. 

Without  denying  the  influence  of  other  causes,  it  is 
therefore  b}^  no  means  hardy  in  us  to  affirm,  that  the  per- 
fection of  natural  religion  is  greatly  to  be  imputed  to  the 
piogress  of  revelation  ;  and  that  the  truths  taught  in  the 
book  of  the  Scriptures  have  at  least  tended  to  open  the 
eyes  of  nit i'  to  those  sublime  lessf)ns  which  nature  her- 
self may  convey  to  them.  This  indeed  would  be 
going  but  a  little  way,  and  it  would  be  betraying  our 
tiusi  tL.  siv  that  these  sacred  oracles  contain  onlj" 
a  n  (  le  perfect  species  of  deism.  The  truths  which 
they  peculiarly  teach  are  those  which  our  Saviour  re- 
fers to  in  the  words  immediately  following  the  text : 
'■''Search  the  scriptures  (says  ht),Jbrin  them  ye  think  ye 
have  eternal  life  ^  and  they  are  they  which  testify  of  me.'''' 

11  IS  through  iliem  that  man  becomes  weil  instructed  in 
the  doctrines  of  immortality  and  salvation,  that  he  learns 
his  superiority  to  the  fleeting  things  of  the  world,  and 
perceives  the  relation  in  which  he  stands  to  that  great, 
person  who  undertook  and  accomplished  the  work  of  his 
redemption.  My  present  intention,  however,  is  not  to 
enter  into  any  particular  consideration  of  those  great  doc- 
trines revealed  to  us  in  scripture,  and  which  are  only  to 
be  found  there  :  1  propose,  from  the  words  of  the  text, 
to  draw  your  attention  rather  to  a  more  general  series  of 
reflections,  founded  on  the  beautiful  truth  conveyed  to 
us  in  the  assertion  that  there  are  scriptures  open  to  our 


The  Character  of  Scripture,  11 

search,  and  that  the  Author  of  our  heini);h'is,  in  a  pecu- 
liar manner,  deigned  to  hold  communion  with  man. 

In  entering  upon  this  point,  allow  me  first  to  suggjcst 
to  you,  that  human  nature  has  always  seemed  to  re(|uire 
some  communication  of  this  kind.  However  beautiful 
the  instances^  of  divine  goodness  and  providence  display- 
ed in  the  works  of  creation,  yet  they  are  not  quite  adapt. 
ed  to  satisfy  our  hearts.  Although  he  is  near,  and  round 
about  us,  yet  the  Author  of  our  b  ing  seems  somehow 
to  be  remote  from  us  :  we  enjoy,  indeed,  the  fruits  of 
his  bounty  ;  we  even  seem  to  hold  a  conspicuous  place 
among  his  works.  Yet  nature  is  so  vast  a  system ;  every 
thing  around  us  is  so  prodigious  and  great,  that  the  no- 
tion of  our  insignificance  cannot  but  overwhelm  us,  and 
we  seek  for  some  more  touching  assurances  than  the 
*'  still  small  voice''''  of  nature  conveys  to  our  ear,  that  we 
are  not  overlooked  and  forgotten  in  the  immensity  of 
creation. 

It  is  this  feeling,  my  brethren,  which  probably  has 
operated  as  one  cause  to  give  birh  to  all  that  mon- 
strous assemblage  of  superstitions  which  degr^idtd  the 
ancient  world,  and  which  now  appear  to  us  so  extra- 
ordinary and  unaccountable.  Amidst  all  the  foil}  and 
abomination  which  may  attach  to  them,  they  yt-t  occur 
to  us,  in  this  view,  as  a  very  interesting  picture  in  tlie 
history  of  our  species.  The)  were  the  atten.pts, — the 
vain,  the  erring,  the  disappointed,  but  the  earnest  and 
persevering  attempts, — of  the  creature  to  approach  its 
Creator  ;  of  a  being  who  felt  the  sublimity  of  his  nature, 
however  clouded  and  obscured,  to  advance  to  the  source 
from  which  he  sprung ;  and  who,  amidst  the  disasters 
and  melanciioly  of  human  liie,  sougiit  consolation  from  a 


12  The  Character  of  Scripture, 

more  direct  intercourse  with  the  great  Universal  Spirit, 
the  Father  of  his  existence. 

It  is  sometimes  the  fashion  with  philosophical  inquir- 
ers to  ridicule,  in  the  superiority  of  their  own  knowledge 
and  reason,  the  simplicity  of  the  savage  who  "  sees 
God  in  clouds,  and  hears  him  in  the  wind :"  but  per- 
haps they  would  find  upon  consideration,  that  however 
he  may  err  in  the  course  which  he  pursues,  yet  the  sen- 
timent which  guides  him  is  congenial  to  the  heart  of 
man;  and  if  these  inquirers  have  lost  it  amidst  the  pride 
of  system  and  reasoning,  they  are  only  perhaps  more 
liable  than  he  to  the  charge  of  error  and  delusion. 

This  sentiment,  then,  being  natural  to  man,  let  us, 
in  the  second  place,  consider  how  beautifully  it  is  met 
in  the  volume  of  the  Scriptures.  However  unexpected 
many  things  in  that  oook  may  be,  however  little  they 
may  suit  the  taste  of  a  refined  age,  yet  this  must  be  al- 
lowed to  them,  that  in  every  page  they  meet  this  senti- 
ment of  our  nature.  They  meet  it  in  all  its  forms,  and 
they  are  only  perhaps  the  more  truly  divine,  inasmuch 
as  they  meet  it  with  a  peculiar  condescension,  suited  to 
all  the  varying  circumstances  of  the  human  race.  In 
the  language  of  St.  Paul,  "  they  are  made  all  things  to 
allmen^  that  they  may  by  all  means  save  some. '*'*  In  the 
early  parts  of  the  sacred  records  in  particular,  we  find 
many  narratives  which  to  us  appear  rude,  and  adapted 
only  to  the  conceptions  of  a  barbarous  age.  The  Deity 
seems  to  condescend  to  the  wishes  of  his  creatures  in 
a  manner  that  may  appear  to  contradict  the  lofty  and 
exalted  views  which  we  are  now  taught  to  form  of  his 
nature.  Yet,  my  brethren,  in  all  such  scenes,  the 
thing  which  must  strike  us  most  is  the  fact  of  the 


The  Character  of  Scripture.  13 

divine  condescension  ;  and  in  the  simple  narrative  of 
angels  sitting  down  at  the  table  of  a  patrrarch,  or  con- 
ducting by  the  hand,  from  the  impending  ruin  of  a  guilty 
city,  the  tottering  steps  of  age  and  of  female  irresolu- 
tion ;  or  of  God  foretelling  in  dreams  the  fortunes  of  in- 
dividuals and  of  nations ;  we  ever  distinguish  the  same 
invariable  characters  of  his  watchful  and  "  most  visible 
providence."  Even  when  we  read  of  that  perplexed 
and  laborious  law  which  \vas  only  the  shadow  of  good 
things  to  come,  which  was  imposed  upon  the  stiff  necks 
of  a  rebellious  people,  and  which  confined,  under  the 
trammels  of  authority,  men,  who  were  incapable  of 
judging  right ;  when  we  go  on  to  contemplate  the  light 
which  was  occasionally  imparted  during  the  progress  of 
this  dark  and  mysterious  dispensation  to  the  glowing 
minds  of  holy  prophets  ;  and,  fi  »ally,  when  we  behold 
the  arrival  of  Him  who  sealed  up  the  law  and  the  pro- 
phecy, who  proclaimed  the  salvation  of  God  to  all  man- 
kind, and  who  confirmed  his  doctrines  by  his  blood  ; 
however,  in  all  these  passages,  many  things  strange  and 
imlooked  for  may  occur,  yet  one  thing  is  most  remark- 
able, which  runs  through  them  all,  and  which  the  heart 
of  man  is  most  anxious  to  find,  the  assiduous  care  and 
attention  bestowed  upon  the  interests  of  the  human  race 
by  that  almighty  and  incomprehensible  Being  "  who 
inhahiteth  eternity. ' ' 

Here  then,  my  brethren,  we  find  the  natural  wishes  of 
the  human  soul  met  in  all  their  extent,  and  in  a  manner 
greatly  beyond  expectation ;  we  find  the  Sovereign  of 
Nature  descending  from  his  inaccessible  throne,  and 
conversing  with  man  as  a  friend;  we  find  him  commiind- 
ing,  encouraging,  entreating,  and  using  every  possible 


14  The  Character  of  Scripturt. 

means  to  bring  his  sheep  into  his  fold,  and  to  raise  the 
eyes  of  men  to  that  better  kingdom  "  wherein  dzvelletk 
righteousness.'''*  It  is  no  longer  the  silent  and  invisible 
Governor  of  the  Universe,  inshrined  in  his  own  majesty, 
whom  we  contemplate  at  a  distance;  it  is  one  who 
sympathizes  with  all  the  ''vishes  of  the  beings  whom  he 
has  formed,  and  who,  in  his  last  and  most  remarkable 
manifestation  of  himself,  when  he  "  spoke  to  iis  by  his 
Son,^"* — "  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the  express 
image  of  his  person,''''  formed  a  union  with  (is  people 
so  close  and  condescending,  that  the  Creator  seemed  for 
a  time  to  be  lost  in  the  creature. 

It  is  thus  that,  in  a  manner  inconceivably  beautiful, 
the  revealed  word  of  God  has  supplied  every  thing  tliat 
was  defective  in  the  voice  of  nature ;  and  this,  if  no  other 
consideration  were  to  be  added,  would  be  a  sufficient 
call  upon  us  to  search  and  study  it  with  thankfulness 
and  diligence.  In  pursuing  the  same  train  of  thought, 
however,  let  me,  in  the  third  place,  suggest  to  you  the 
great  accession  of  happiness  and  of  virtue  which  these 
sacred  writings  have  been  the  means  of  introducing 
among  the  human  race  :  happiness  which  is  to  be  found 
where  men  least  look  for  it,  and  virtue  where  it  has  least 
outward  encouragement — in  the  bosoms  of  those  who 
are  unknown  to  the  world,  and  who  are  often  in  the 
lowest  and  apparently  the  most  unfortunate  circum- 
stances. "  Not  many  wise  men  after  the  flesh  (says 
the  apostle),  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble  are  call- 
(•</."  Those  whom  the  world  regaids  with  admiration 
and  envy,  as  the  favourites  of  fortune,  and  the  great  mo- 
nopolizers of  the  hippiness  of  their  species;  how  often, 
alas !  do  they  miss  that  true  joy  which  is  found  and  re- 


The  Character  of  Scripture.  IS 

lished  by  those  who  are  commonly  regarded  as  the  vic- 
tims of  wretchedness  I  The  humble  widow,  whose 
nighdy  pillow  is  moistened  with  her  tears ;  the  poor  man 
in  his  unnoticed  cottage  ;  the  sinner  whose  conscience 
is  wounded  with  repentance ;  the  miserable  of  every 
description  whose  hearts  are  not  harden-  d  and  debused, 
find  in  the  consolations  of  the  Spirit  of  God  that  com- 
fort and  well-grounded  hope,  which  the  pride  of  learn- 
ing or  abilities,  or  wealth,  or  power,  so  often  seeks  for 
in  vain  !  While  nov/,  as  in  all  former  ages,  some  are 
plying  the  beaten  road  of  crime  and  conquest,  flaming 
for  a  time  the  passing  meteors  of  their  age,  hov/  many 
in  the  retired  vale  of  unregarded  privacy  are  deriving 
from  the  volume  of  salvation  those  principles  of  true 
ambition  which  Vvill  enable  them  at  last  to  "  shine  as 
the  brightness  of  the  firmament^  and  as  the  stars  for  ever 
and  ever  /" 

There  is  something  inexpressibly  striking  in  the  re- 
flection, that  the  great  Sovereign  of  the  Universe,  that 
mysterious  Being  whom  philosophy  has  so  often  search- 
ed after  in  vain,  deigns,  in  the  pages  of  inspiration,  to 
converse  with  the  lowest  and  humblest  of  his  creatures; 
that  those  who  are  ignorant  of  every  thing  else,  may  yet 
here  be  instructed  by  him  who  knoweth  all  things,  in 
those  points  which  it  is  chiefly  material  for  them  to 
know;  that  "  f  o  the  poor  the  gospel  is  preached  ;''^  and 
that  the  "  High  and  Holy  One  xvho  inhahiteth  eternitijy 
here  condescends  to  dwell xvith  him  also  that  is  of  a  con- 
trite and  humble  spirit.''^ 

These  reflections,  my  brethren,  will,  I  trust,-  be 
thought  not  entirely  unworthy  of  your  attention,  and 
tiiey  will  perJiaps  hiive  some  tendency  to  awaken  a  greater 


16  The  Character  of  Scripture* 

regard  to  the  instructions  contained  in  the  sacred  writ^ 
ings  than  it  is  usual  with  many  to  bestow  upon  them. 
Every  thing,  indi  e(l^«may  be  overdone  ;  and  the  religi- 
ous views  of  iuen,  if  confined  to  any  one  direction,  may 
lead  into  a  narrow  manner  of  thinking,  and  into  confined 
and  illiberal  sentiments.  Scripture,  like  every  thing  else, 
is  liable  to  very  extraordinary  interpretations  ;  and  when 
men  enter  upon  the  study  of  it  with  a  disposition  to 
search  into  mysteries,  or  with  a  prepossession  for  any 
peculiar  set  of  tenets,  and  a  desire  to  establish  these  in 
preference  to  every  other,  they  no  doubt  may  run  into 
the  most  extravagant  imaginations,  and  find,  in  the  words 
of  God  himself,  something  like  a  colour  for  all  the  per- 
versions and  follies  of  their  own  disordered  minds. 
The  disposition  for  receiving  most  advantage  from  the 
scriptures  is  that  which  I  have  attempted  to  show.  Scrip- 
ture was  designed  to  meet  the  humble  but  earnest  wish 
natural  to  the  human  heart,  to  become  acquainted  with 
God,  to  receive  instruction  from  him,  to  be  comforted 
with  the  consolations  of  his  spirit,  and  with  the  hopes  of 
immortality. 

To  these  leading  points  all  doctrines  and  peculiar 
tenets  of  faith  are  subservient ;  and  those  are  probably 
the  best  suited  to  every  particular  person,  which  the  most 
readily  conduct  his  mind  to  the  knowledge  of  these  sub- 
lime truths.  "  All  scripture  (says  St.  I^aul)  is  given  by 
inspiration  of  God ^  and  is  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  re- 
proof for  correction^  for  instruction  in  righteousness^  that 
the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished 
unto  all  good  works  ;'*  "  but  (as  he  says  in  another  place) 
avoid  foolish  questions,  and  gejiealogies  and  co7itentions, 
and  strivings  about  the  lanVyfor  they  are  unprofitable  and 


SERMON  III. 

ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  WISDOM 


PROV.  xvii.  24. 


"'  H^isdom  is  before  him  that  hath  understanding,  but  the 
eyes  of  a  fool  are  in  the  ends  of  the  earth.''^ 

IT  is  the  object  of  the  writings  of  Solomon 
to  point  out  the  superiority  of  wisdom  to  every  other 
human  acquisition.  "  JFisdom  (says  he)  is  the  principal 
thing;  therefore  get  wisdom,  and,  with  all  thy  getting^ 
get  understanding.'*''  Not  that  he  ever  undervalues  the 
common  objects  of  human  pursuit,  such  as  riches, 
power,  or  pleasure:  his  only  aim  is  to  enforce  a  lesson 
which  long  experience  had  taught  him, — that  to  a  man 
who  is  unwise  these  advantages  are  really  of  very  small 
importance,  and  that  a  wise  man  can  at  all  times  recon- 
cile himself  to  the  want  of  them. 

Two  questions,  however,  here  present  themselves : 
What  is  wisdom,  and  in  what  manner  may  it  be  at- 
tained ?  To  the  first  of  these  inquiries,  the  ansu  er 
of  Solomon  is  in  these  words :  "  The  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  the  beginning  of  rvisdom;  and  the  know- 
ledge of  the  holy  is  understanding.''''  Or,  in  other 
words,  man  is  then  wise,  and  then  only,  when,  with  a 

c 


18  The  Character  of  Wisdom. 

sense  of  the  obligation  he  is  under  to  do  so,  he  endeg- 
voiirs  to  discover,  and  to  carry  into  effect,  the  design 
of  God  in  his  creation. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  no  doubt,  how  is  this  disco- 
very to  be  made  ?  What  is  clear  amidst  the  contradic- 
tions of  human  reason  ?  What  distinct  rules  even  of 
morality  are  to  be  found  amidst  the  varying  customs 
and  opinions  of  men  ?  When  we  leave  our  own  narrow 
circle,  and  look  into  "  the  ends  of  the  earthy'*'*  where 
shall  we  find  nations  agree  in  their  views,  even  in  the 
duties  of  social  life  ?  But  if  we  proceed  further,  and 
examine  the  opinions  of  men  on  religious  subjects, 
into  how  wide  a  field  of  contradiction  and  extravagance 
do  we  run  !  Where,  then,  are  truth  or  wisdom  to  be 
found  ? 

To  this  class  of  inquiries,  the  answer  of  the  wise 
man  is  contained  in  the  text.  "  Wisdom  is  before  him 
that  hath  understanding;  hut  the  eyes  of  a  fool  are  in 
the  ends  ofjhe  earth.'''*  As  if  he  had  said  :  "  Give  a 
cautious  heed  to  the  feelings  of  your  conscience,  and  to 
the  opinions  of  the  wise,  and  the  upright  among  whom 
you  live,  and  you  will  seldom  go  far  wrong  in  your 
views  of  duty  and  morality.  Bestow  in  like  manner  a 
prudent  attention  on  that  form  of  religious  faith  in 
which  }  ou  have  been  brought  up ;  and  if  in  the  course 
of  your  life  you  may  happen  to  attain  more  liberal  and 
enlightened  opinions  than  you  received  from  your  first 
instructors,  yet  be  persuaded  that,  in  the  main,  these 
are  the  instructions  which  have  conveyed  to  you  some 
of  the  most  important  truths  which  in  this  world  you 
can  ever  learn."  "  My  son^  hear  the  instruction  of 
thy  father^  and  forsake  not  the  laxv  of  thy  mother^  for 


The  Character  of  Wisdom.  1 9 

they  shall  he  aji  ornament  of  grace  unto  thy  lieacU  and 
chains  about  thy  neck.'*''  If  you  have  liad  understand- 
ing, moral  and  religious  wisdom  have  at  all  times  been 
before  you,  and  within  your  reach  ;  it  is  merely  folly, 
though  you  may  sometimes  have  thought  it  the  mark  of 
an  unprejudiced  and  philosophical  mind,  to  send  your 
eyes  in  search  of  them  to  the  "  ends  of  the  earth.'''' 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  simple  and  unassuming 
wisdom  delivered  in  the  instructions  of  this  wise  kin<r ! 
How  different  in  its  character  from  much  of  what  is 
called  wisdom  in  the  present  age,  from  the  course 
v^hich  philosophy  has  too  frequently  pursued,  and  how 
different  in  its  effects  IVom  that  misery  and  loss  of  all 
steady  principle  into  which  the  wretched  votaries  of 
modern  infidelity  have  been  too  often  betrayed  !  There 
are  two  positions  which  the  text  leads  me  to  illustrate  : 
the  first  is,  that  every  thing  which  it  is  most  important 
for  us  to  know,  either  in  morals  or  religion,  lies  before 
us,  and  may  be  attained  without  any  deep  inquiry  :  the 
second  is,  that  when  more  profound  or  extensive  inqui- 
ries upon  such  subjects  are  resorted  to  by  the  wise,  it 
is  never  with  the  view  of  opposing,  but  of  adding  far- 
ther confirmation  to  those  great  and  fundamental  truths. 
The  illustration  of  tlicse  positions  will,  I  trust,  be  of 
some  advantage  to  those  of  the  younger  part  of  our 
congregation,  who  may  at  this  time-^'  be  employed  in 
an  examination  of  the  evidences  of  religion,  whether 
natural  or  revealed. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  let  those  Mho  are  entering 
upon  such  inquiries  consider,  that,  from  the   nature 

'  The  season  of  Advcm. 


20  The  Character  of  Wisdom, 

of  the  thing,  they  are  not  necessarily  very  deep  or  pro- 
found. Morals  and  religion  are  the  business,  and  con- 
stitute the  wisdom  of  all  mankind  ;  of  the  unlearned  as 
well  as  the  learned,  of  the  peasant  as  well  as  the  philo- 
soi)her.  But  what  it  is  the  business  of  all  men  to  know, 
no  man  can  know  well,  unless  it  is  made  in  some  degree 
apparent  to  his  reason  ;  and  before  the  principles  of 
morality  or  of  religion  can  be  of  material  service  to  any 
human  being,  his  reason  must  to  a  certain  extent  be 
convinced  of  their  truth. 

It  is  the  fashion  with  freethinkers  to  suppose,  that  the 
religious  opinions  of  the  lower  orders  are  merely  pre- 
judice and  superstition ;  that  their  imaginations  are 
merely  affected,  but  that  their  reason  remains  uncon- 
vinced ;  and  they  accordingly  often  talk  of  these  plain 
simple  people  in  a  strain  of  ridicule  and  contempt  which 
is  much  more  applicable  to  themselves.  The  fact,  how- 
ever, undoubtedly  is,  that  although  in  the  religion  of  an 
uneducated  man,  there  is  commonly  some  mixture  of 
superstition,  yet  in  as  far  as  it  serves  him  for  a  rule  of 
wise  and  upright  conduct  here,  and  ajfifords  him  well- 
founded  hopes  of  happiness  hereafter,  it  is  in  the  highest 
degree  reasonable ;  and  it  is  the  pride  and  glory  of 
religion,  that  in  the  lowest  circumstances  of  human  for- 
tune, it  has  trained  up  men  to  act  a  wise,  a  worthy,  and 
a  noble  part,  compared  with  which  no  lessons  of  human 
philosophy  have  effected  any  thing  similar  or  compara- 
ble, even  while  they  were  assisted  by  all  the  advantages 
of  knowledge  and  education.  Now,  what  I  mean  to 
assert  is,  that  principles  which  lie  level  to  men  of  very 
imperfect  education,  may  be  found  without  any  deep 
inquiry,  and  when  they  are  overlooked,  as  they  unfor- 


The  Character  of  Wisdom.  21 

tunately  have  been  by  many  ingeniou.-.  men,  it  is  rather 
from  their  simplicity  and  plainness  than  from  their  ab- 
struseness  and  difficulty.  It  is  too  often  the  miserable 
weakness  of  men  of  genius,  that  they  will  not  accept  of 
die  v\isdom  which  is  before  them,  but,  rather  than  be 
satisfied  with  so  cheap  a  purchase,  will  permit  their 
eyes  to  travel  with  those  of  the  fool  in  the  text,  into 
"  the  ends  of  the  carth.''^ 

What,  for  instance,  so  snnple  to  every  thinking  per- 
son, or  so  congenial  to  every  uncon  upted  heart,  as  the 
fundamental  truth  of  all  religion,  the  belief  of  the  exist- 
ence of  God  ?  What  so  natural  as  the  sentiments  of 
devotion  which  rise  from  the  contemplation  of  his  per- 
fections ?  What,  in  like  manner  may  I  add,  so  easily 
comprehended  as  the  more  important  doctrines  of  reve- 
lation? That  a  teacher  came  from  God  to  instruct  man- 
kind ;  that  he  delivered  the  purest  precepts,  and  ex- 
hibited the  model  of  every  virtue  in  his  life  ;  that  he 
conversed  with  man  as  a  friend  and  brother";  that  he 
died  to  take  away  the  sting  and  the  bitterness  of  death; 
and  that  he  rose  again  to  exhibit  to  man  a  li\  ing  proof 
of  the  final  victory  of  human  nature  over  death  and  the 
grave.  There  is  a  congeniality  between  such  views 
and  the  natural  sentiments  of  religion,  and  they  supplv' 
so  well  some  points  which  the  religion  of  nature  leave-; 
obscure,  that  an  unprejudiced  man,  it  would  seem, 
should  have  no  great  difficulty  in  admitting  thL'm,  and 
should  require  no  very  great  body  of  c\'idencc  for  the 
purpose  of  establishing  their  trutli. 

The  evidence  for  natural  religion  rests  on  the  simple 
and  quiet  contemplation  of  nature  :  the  leading  evidence 
for  revelation  is  founded  in  the  consciousness  of  our 
spiritual  .wants,  and  in  the  unstrained  iiUerpretation  of 


22  The  Character  of  Wisdom, 

Scripture,  which,  without  any  trick  of  rhetoric,  or  any 
aftectation  of  laborious  proof,  speaks  immediately  to  the 
heart  and  the  understanding,  and  founds  its  evidence 
and  authority  on  the  weight  and  dignity  of  the  truths 
which  it  delivers.  "  Wisdom  then^''''  my  brethren, 
*'  is  before  him  that  hath  iwcerstanding :'''*  not  merely 
the  wisdom  of  time,  but  the  wisdom  of  eternity;  not 
merely  the  rules  of  common  prudence,  but  the  paths  of 
everlasting  salvatio  i. 

The  second  position  which  I  undertook  to  illustrate, 
is,  that  profound  or  extensive  inquiries  may  frequently 
add  confirmation  to  moral  and  religious  truths,  but  are 
never  resorted  to  by  the  wise,  from  any  view  of  opposi- 
tion to  these  truths. 

It  was  not  certainly  the  intention  of  Solomon,  to  in- 
terrupt the  inquiries  and  speculations  of  the  human 
mind :  nor,  when  he  affirms  that  *'  the  eyes  of  the  fool  are 
in  the  ends  of  the  earthy''"'  does  he  at  all  mean  to  insinu- 
atCj  that  the  wise  should  not  likewise  look  abroad  upon 
nature,  and  employ  their  eyes  upon  all  that  is  known  of 
the  works  of  God,  or  of  the  history  of  man.  The  wise, 
however,  are  actuated  in  their  iuqtiiries,  by  principles 
diametrically  opposite  to  those  of  the  fool.  They  seek 
not  to  oppose  the  truths  upon  which  the  happiness  and 
the  dignity  of  man  depend,  but  to  confirm  them. 
Whatever  may  be  the  seducing  power  of  ingenious 
speculation,  the  wise  man  will  never  permit  it  to  over- 
come the  fundamental  principles  of  his  conduct,  and  of 
his  hopes.  The  proofs  on  which  these  rest,  are  simple 
and  before  him :  his  speculations  arc  drawn,  he  knows, 
from  a  distance,  and  may  be  true  or  false :  the  first  he 
possesses  in  common  with  every  human  being,  before 
Avhom  these  truths  have  been  laid  :  they  are  Ijjve  the  air 


The  Character  of  Wisdom.  23 

which  all  men  breathe,  and  the  objects  which  all  see : 
more  refined  speculations  upon  such  subjects,  are  like 
inquiries  into  the  composition  of  the  atmosphere,  or  into 
the  hidden  properties  of  bodies,  which,  in  the  hands  of 
the  wise,  may  lead,  no  doubt,  to  great  and  important 
uses,  but  w  hich  may  be  abused  by  the  fool  to  purposes 
of  mischief  and  folly. 

The  wise  will  never  rake  into  the  corners  of  nature 
for  strange  appearances,  upon  which  their  ignorance  may 
raise  a  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  and  the  beneficence  of 
its  author.  It  is  their  delight,  on  the  contrary,  to  ex- 
plain every  passage  in  the  great  volume  of  creation, 
which  may  render  his  attributes  more  admirable  to  the 
human  mind.  Nor,  in  their  examination  of  the  various 
forms  under  which  religion  lias  appeared  among  men,  do 
they  ever  officiously  study  to  conceal  the  original  charac- 
ters of  truth,  which  run  through  the  whole  ;  or  to  throw 
into  the  dark  those  features  of  divinity,  which  distin- 
guish the  religion  of  Christ  from  all  the  other  forms  of 
human  belief.  Such,  indeed,  are  sometimes  the  me- 
lancholy attempts  of  the  fool;  or,  what  is  worse,  of 
those  men  of  unfortunate  ingenuity,  who  abuse  the  gift 
of  God  committed  to  them  to  their  own  ruin,  and  that 
of  others.  It  is,  on  the  other  hand,  the  part  of  the  wise, 
through  all  the  varying  forms  of  superstition,  to  trace 
the  workings  of  the  same  common  religious  nature  in 
man,  and,  amidst  the  darkness  which  sits  deep  over  the 
hopes  of  the  human  race,  to  descry  the  appearance  ol" 
that  star  which  gives  the  promise  of  a  better  day,  and 
*'  to  rejoice  ivith  exceeding  great  joy, ^^  when  it  leads 
them  to  the  place  where  they  may  ''''  fall  down  and  xvor- 
ship  himy'*  who  has  come  to  enlighten  and  to  save  the 
world. 


34  The  Character  of  Wisdom, 

Tliese  observations,  my  brethren,  as  I  have  already 
said,  are  chiefly  intended  for  the  young.  In  that  period 
of  life,  more  than  in  any  other,  wisdom  seems  to  be 
something  remote  from  common  observation,  and  to  be 
found  only  "  in  the  ends  of  the  earth.'''*  It  is  at  this  pe- 
riod that  we  are  more  attached  in  our  inquiries  to  inge- 
nuity than  to  truth ;  and  that,  in  the  fancied  liberality 
and  illumination  of  our  views,  we  are  tempted  to  hold 
in  the  utmost  contempt  every  thing  which  we  can  class 
in  our  imaginations  under  the  a-spect  of  superstition. 
Under  that  name,  alas !  we  are  too  ready  to  include  the 
most  venerable  and  the  wisest  opinions ;  and,  on  the 
shrine  of  popular  delusion  and  folly,  to  sacrifice  all  that 
is  truly  great,  either  on  earth  or  in  heaven  !  These,  how- 
ever, whatever  they  may  seem  to  be,  are  not  the  true 
employments  of  genius,  and  are,  at  all  times,  most  un- 
worthy of  an  elevated  mind. 

Go  then,  my  young  friends,  and  fill  your  minds  with 
all  knowledge,  and  with  all  science.  Let  your  eyes 
and  your  thoughts  run  into  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Give 
full  scope  to  that  ardour  which  this  seat  of  liberal  edu- 
cation is  so  well  adapted  to  inspire  and  to  gratify  ;  but, 
as  you  value  your  peace  of  mind  here,  and  your  hap- 
piness hereafter,  let  not  the  vanity  of  knowledge  lay 
snares  for  the  principles  of  your  virtue,  or  your  faith. 
Make  philosophy,  as  she  ever  ought  to  be,  the  hand- 
maid of  morality  and  religion,  and  she  will  then  supply 
you  with  additional  confirmations  of  that  wisdom  which 
is  ever  before  you  ;  and  your  eyes  will  then  have  been 
in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  not  like  the  eyes  of  fools,  but 
like  the  eyes  of  the  servants  and  the  children  of  the 
most  high  and  all-wise  God. 


SERMON  IV. 

ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  FAITH. 


ST.  JOHN,  XX.  29. 


'^^  Jesus  saith  unto  him.,  Thomas.,  because  thou  hast  seen 
me.,  thou  hast  believed ;  blessed  are  they  that  have  not 
seen^  and  yet  have  believed.'^'' 

THESE  words,  my  brethren,  convey  much 
useful  instruction  to  those  who,  like  us,  Uve  in  the  latter 
ages  of  the  Gospel.  Th^y  are  the  words  of  our  Lord 
to  St.  Thomas,  occasioned  by  that  singular  incredulity 
with  which  this  apostle  received  the  accounts  of  his 
master's  resurrection.  After  having  removed  his  doubts, 
by  affording  him  all  the  evidence  which  he  required,  or 
which  the  fact  was  capable  of  receiving,  our  Lord  re- 
proves him,  but  in  very  gentle  lano;nage,  for  the  want  oT 
faith  which  he  had  shown.  "  Thomas  (says  he),  be- 
cause thou  hast  seen  me  thou  Jiast  believed ;  blessed  are 
they  that  have  not  seen.,  and  yet  have  believed.'''' 

It  is  evident,  that  we,  in  this  age  of  the  world,  stand 
very  much  in  the  situation  in  which  St.  Thomas  stood 
before  our  Lord  appeared  to  him.  We  have  not  seen, 
— and  yet,  I  trust,  we  believe !  There  are,  however, 
some  in  this  age,  who  will  tell  us,  that  our  belief  is  fal- 

D 


26  The  Character  of  Faith. 

lacious  and  vain ;  who  will  deride  the  promises  in 
which  we  trust,  and  affirm  that  there  are  no  grounds 
for  those  hopes  which  we  have  set  before  us.  If,  at 
any  time,  we  feel  our  minds  giving  way  to  such  repre- 
sentations, or  are  dazzled  by  the  plausible  ingenuity 
with  which  they  may  be  supported,  let  us  call  to  our 
recollection  the  memorable  words  of  our  Lord,  that  al- 
though we  have  not  seen,  although  we  have  not  re- 
ceived the  highest  evidences,  we  are  yet  blessed  if  we 
believe.  The  words,  my  brethren,  are  very  affecting, 
and  very  important;  and  I  trust,  that  1  shall  be  usefully 
employed  in  drawing  from  them  a  few  obvious  reflec- 
tions. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  it  is  apparent,  that  when  our 
Saviour  tells  us  we  are  blessed  if  we  believe,  he  cannot 
possibly  mean  to  recommend  that  we  should  believe 
any  thing  which  we  have  not  good  grounds  for  believ- 
ing. He  cannot  mean  that  we  should  take  our  opi- 
nions upon  trust,  or  without  making  a  proper  use  of 
that  reason  which  God  has  given  us.  We  are,  on  the 
contrary,  expressly  required  to  "  prove  all  things^'** 
and  to  be  "  ready  to  give  aii  answer  to  every  man  who 
asketh  a  reason  of  the  liope  that  is  in  us.''''  According 
to  the  opportunities  which  we  possess,  our  faith  ought 
always  to  be  established  on  solid  and  substantial  foun- 
dations. But,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  thing,  these 
can  never  amount  to  the  highest  possible  evidence. 
What  we  learn  from  the  testimony  of  others,  is  never 
so  certain  as  what  we  see  with  our  own  eyes.  It  may, 
however,  be  sufficiently  certain  to  be  credited  or  be. 
Ueved ;  and  that  mind  must  be  very  full  of  suspicion, 


The  Character  of  Faith.  27 

which  will  always    require    the   highest  evidence   for 
every  species  of  truth. 

This  was  plainly  the  case  with  St.  Thomas.  He 
had  surely  been  witness  to  many  circumstances  in  the 
life  of  his  master  which  rendered  the  fact  of  his  resur- 
rection  not  a  very  improbable  one ;  and  his  compa- 
nions, the  apostles,  had,  with  one  voice,  declared  to 
him,  that  they  had  conversed  with  their  Lord,  and  that 
he  was  indeed  risen  from  the  dead.  The  hesitation  of 
St.  Thomas  with  regard  to  the  truth  of  this  fact  was 
evidently,  therefore,  very  unreasonable,  and  argued  a 
strange  degree  of  stubborn  incredulity.  It  was  possi- 
ble, certainly,  that  the  apostles  might  be  joined  in  a 
plot  to  deceive  him ;  but  this  was  both  an  improbable 
and  an  unamiable  suspicion.  He  knew  well  the  worth 
and  the  veracity  of  these  men;  he  knew  likewise  their 
love  for  their  master,  and  the  extreme  consternation 
and  distress  which  his  death  had  occasioned  them  ;  and 
it  was  surely  most  unlikely  that,  in  this  temper  of 
mind,  they  should  be  so  idly  and  crut  lly  employed  as 
to  attempt  to  trifle  with  the  feelings  of  one  of  their  own 
associates.  While,  then,  our  Lord  cannot  mean  to 
recommend  groundless  belief,  yet  he  very  reasonably 
recommends  belief  on  such  convictions  of  the  under- 
standing as  have  a  substantial  foundation,  although  they 
may  not  rest  on  the  highest  possible  evidence. 

But,  secondly,  my  brethren,  the  expression  of  the 
text  conveys  much  more.  It  expresses  not  merely  a 
simple  approbation  of  such  belief  as  a  right  and  reason- 
able thing,  but  it  speaks  of  it  in  a  high  strain  of  com- 
mendation. It  is  not  merely  said,  it  is  reasonable  to 
believe  although  we  have  not  seen,  but,  *'  blessed  are 


28  The  Character  of  Faith, 

they  that  have  not  seen^  and  yet  have  believed.'^''  In 
the  particular  case,  therefore,  of  religious  belief  (the  only 
case  which  our  Saviour  had  in  view),  it  appears  that 
there  is  not  merely  a  reasonableness  and  propriety,  but 
thnt  there  is  a  high  degree  of  moral  excellence.  This 
is  a  point  which  it  is  of  consequence  to  explain,  as  it 
seems  not  to  be  sufficiently  understood  :  though  what  I 
can  nov/  say  upon  the  subject  must  necessarily  be  very 
imperfect. 

First,  then,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  religious  belief 
is  the  noblest  principle  of  the  human  soul ;  and  is  the 
feeling  to  which  it  instinctively  returns  whenever  it  is 
freed  from  the  seductions  of  present  objects.  When- 
ever the  mind  comes  back  upon  itself,  and  reflects  for  a 
moment  whence  it  came,  and  whither  it  is  going  ;  when 
it  is  freed  from  the  current  of  the  world,  it  then  rises 
as  by  a  natural  aspiration  after  some  intercourse  and  com- 
munion with  the  unseen  arbiter  of  its  destiny.  There 
inimediately  springs  up  within  it  a  principle  of  faith ; 
a  bond  of  union,  which  connects  it  with  the  unknown 
and  undiscoverable  secrets  of  futurity,  and  makes  it  feel 
that  a  time  is  coming  when  all  the  objects  with  which 
it  is  now  occupied  will  be  of  no  value  in  its  eye,  and 
that  other  and  greater  objects,  with  which  it  is  now  un- 
acquainted, will  then  fill  up  the  vast  measure  of  its 
afttctions.  To  cultivate  this  feeling,  to  keep  ahve  this 
high  sense  of  our  future  destiny,  to  cling  to  those  facts 
by  which  it  is  supported,  to  apply  ourselves  with  ardour 
and  eagerness  to  every  appearance  in  nature,  and  to 
every  relation  in  history  by  which  ii  receives  confirma- 
tion, is  a  proof  of  an  elevated  mind;  and  so  far  from 
being  a  weakness  which  we  ought  to  overcome,  it  is  a 


The  Character  of  Faith.  29 

noble  disposition  which  struggles  with  the  littleness  of 
present  pursuits,  and  strives  to  lift  the  soul  to  a  sense  of 
its  true  dignity.  This  is  one  view  in  which  it  is  bless- 
ed to  believe ;  and  although  our  reason  certainly  could 
never  approve  of  any  unsound  or  fallacious  belief,  yet 
the  moral  faculty  might  almost  applaud  that  noble  bold- 
ness of  faith  which  could  cling  to  religion,  even  if  rea- 
son were  to  oppose  it. 

But  farther,  all  religious  faith  that  is  consistent  and 
sound,  evinces  a  love  of  virtue  ;  because  when  we  throw 
our  eyes  into  a  future  v/orld,  we  can  never  rationally  do 
so  without  believing  that  this  future  world  will  be  the 
reign  of  perfection.  The  mind  of  man  rises  beyond  the 
present  life,  chiefly  because  it  perceives  here  something 
incomplete,  wrong,  and  irregularly  conducted ;  it  looks 
into  another  life,  because  it  there  expects  that  every 
thing  will  be  well-ordered  and  completed.  It  can  only 
look  into  another  life  with  satisfaction,  therefore  it  can 
only  believe  willingly,  it  can  only  cling  to  belief,  and 
accept  of  any  reasonable  evidence  for  believing,  if  itself 
is  good,  if  it  loves  goodness,  if  it  triumphs  in  the 
thought  that  all  will  yet  be  well,  and  that  there  will  be 
nothing  left  to  offend  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Faith, 
therefore,  argues  a  blessed  disposition,  a  disposition 
"which  aims  at  the  perfection  of  all  creation,  and  which 
longs  to  behold  the  whole  universe  of  being,  freed  from 
defect,  from  vice,  and  suffering. 

I  shall  only  add,  my  brethren,  that  there  is  something 
peculiarly  blessed  in  Christian  faith,  in  that  disposition  of 
mind  which,  recognizing  the  blindness  and  the  weak- 
ness of  the  human  heart,  seeks  a  guide  to  direct  its  steps, 
and  strength  superior  to  its  own  on  which  it  may  lean; 


30  The  Character  of  Faith. 

which,  sacrificing  the  prick  of  man,  can  fix  its  eye 
steadily  upon  the  cross,  a  id  can  discover  the  perfection 
of  ail  that  is  to  be  admired  and  loved  ia  one  whose  exter- 
nal circumstances  were  mean,  and  who  '*  had  no  beauty 
that  we  should  desire  him, ' '  There  is  a  purity  and  an  ab- 
sence of  all  worldly  affections  in  sucli  faith,  that  is  pecu- 
liarly connected  with  all  the  best  principles  of  our  na- 
ture. 

From  these  two  reflections,  from  the  reflection  that 
sound  faith  must  always  rest  upon  good  grounds,  and 
from  the  reflection  that  there  is  a  moral  beauty  and  bless- 
edness in  the  disposition  of  mind  which  leads  to  reli- 
gious belief,  we  may  gather  what  is  the  duty  of  man 
on  this  important  subject :  First,  it  is  our  duty  to  seek 
such  a  foundation  for  our  faith  as  reason  will  approve 
of;  and,  secondly,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  let  the 
foundation  be  shaken  when  we  have  secured  it.  We 
must  not  consider  religious  faith  as  an  indifferent  mat- 
ter, or  that  it  resembles  opinions  on  common  subjects, 
to  which  it  is  of  little  importance  whether  we  are  stt  ad- 
fast  or  indifferent.  When  we  have  formed  reasonable 
opinions  in  religion,  we  must  prize  them  as  the  great- 
est good  which  we  possess,  and  rather  permit  the  whole 
world  to  crumble  about  our  heads  than  part  with  one  of 
them.  Like  other  duties,  this,  too,  may  at  times  be  a 
difficult  one.  We  may  be  led  away  from  it  by  the  se- 
ductions of  vanity,  by  the  love  of  the  world,  by  the  love 
of  philosophy,  falsely  so  called,  and  by  many  other 
attractions.  But,  in  the  difficulty  itself,  there  is  another 
source  of  merit ;  and  the  more  hard  the  task  may  be  to 
keep  our  faith  unshaken,  the  more  blessed  are  we  if 
we  persevere  to  the  end- 


The  Character  of  Faith.  31 

In  the  third  place,  my  brethren,  the  words  of  our 
Saviour  suggest  a  farther  reflection.  While  faith  is 
blessed  as  a  moral  quality,  it  is  to  be  accounted  blessed 
likewise  in  another  view.  Our  faith  is  not,  in  niost 
cases,  entirely  our  own  work.  We  owe  much  to  the 
care  of  our  parents,  to  the  good  pnnciples  which  they 
have  instilled  into  us ;  and  often,  too,  we  are  indebted 
to  happy  incidents  in  the  course  ol  our  lives,  which  may 
well  be  denominated  hiierpositions  of  Providence.  Our 
faith  then  comes  from  a  higher  power  than  ourselves  :  it 
is  a  good  gift  bestowed  upon  us  ;  a  blessing  which  we 
have  received. 

From  this  view,  let  us  first  learn  with  what  temper 
of  mind  we  ought  to  regard  want  of  faith  in  other  men, 
Tiiere  is,  probably,  in  all  instances  of  infidelity,  some 
degree  of  vice  :  in  many  instances  there  may  be  very 
great  and  glaring  vice,  something  which  it  is  natural  for 
us  to  detest  and  to  abhor.  But  there  mav  be  manv 
other  instances,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  they  are  the  most 
frequent,  in  which  there  is  much  more  to  be  regretted 
and  lamented.  The  lesson  Vvhich  the  words  of  vav: 
Saviour  in  the  text,  and  whicii  the  whole  incident  that 
gave  occasion  to  them  may  afford  us  here,  is  very  strik- 
ing and  beautiful.  St.  Thomas  Vv^as  for  a  time  what  is 
-commonly  called  an  infidel.  He  required  an  evidence 
for  his  faith,  which  no  man  in  the  present  age  of  the 
world  can  ever  obtain,  and  which  it  was  unreasonable, 
and,  in  some  respects,  unwortliy  in  him  to  demand. 
Yet  his  Master  still  beheld,  with  a  fiivourable  eye,  what 
was  really  good  in  this  disciple;  and,  so  far  from  treating 
him  with  any  harshness  or  unplcasing  severity  on  ac- 
count of  his  unbelief,  he  condescended  to  give  him  thr 


32  The  Character  of  Faith. 

evidence  which  he  required.  He  scarcely,  indeed,  re- 
proaches him  with  his  infidelity.  His  words  convey  a 
reproach,  but  it  is  of  the  gentlest  and  most  tacit  nature 
imaginable.  He  does  not  say,  "  Thomas,  thou  art 
accursed  because  thou  didst  not  believe;"  he  says 
simplv,  "  Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me^  thou  hast 
believed ;  blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet 
iiave  believed!''^  If  this  was  the  temper,  and  this  the 
language  in  which  our  Saviour  himself  addressed  an  un- 
believing disciple,  with  what  charity  and  indulgence 
ought  we,  his  unworthy  servants,  to  treat  a  brother  who 
has  fallen  into  doubt  and  perplexity  !  instead  of  driv- 
ing him  from  us  with  anger  and  impatient  revilings, 
we  are  here  directed  to  lay  before  him  all  the  evidence 
in  our  possession,  and,  by  gentle  and  persuasive  assur- 
ances, to  win  over  to  the  truth,  a  heart  which  can  only 
be  hardened  by  scorn,  and  alienated  by  reproach. 

But  farther,  my  brethren,  from  the  view  of  faith  as  a 
blessing  M^iich  we  have  received,  the  following  most 
important  consideration  arises  :  let  it  not  be  received  in 
vain.  It  is  not  given  us  for  the  purpose  of  lying  dead 
and  dormant  in  our  minds,  it  is  given  with  the  design 
of  inspiring  us  with  the  love  of  every  thing  that  is 
good.  It  is  given  with  the  view  of  exciting  us  to  all 
good  works;  and,  in  fact,  we  cannot  be  said  to  possess 
it  unless  we  permit  it  to  obtain  its  genuine  and  natural 
scope.  It  is  given  to  raise  our  minds  above  this  world, 
and  to  carry  our  affections  into  a  higher  scene.  We 
believe  that  the  present  life  is  but  the  school  of  prepa- 
ration for  an  eternal  world ;  that  we  have  no  *'  abiding 
city'*'*  here ;  and  that  we  are  advancing  to  a  celestial 
city,  whose  "  builder  and  maker  is  God.''^     We  be- 


The  Character  of  Faith,  33 

lieve  that  one  has  gone  before  us,  who  came  to  ^uide 
us  in  our  course,  who  has  burst  the  barriers  of  the 
grave,  and  has  "  ascended  up  on  high.'*'*  These  are 
the  truths  in  which  our  infant  years  were  instructed, 
and  which  our  maturer  judgments  have  approved : 
they  are  the  truths  which  we  profess  to  believe  when 
we  assemble  round  the  altar  of  Christ ;  and  they  con- 
stitute that  faith  which  is  the  polar  star  that  directs  our 
voyage  through  the  dark  and  stormy  night  of  morta- 
lity. "  What  manner  of  men^  then^  ought  we  to  be  iti 
all  holy  conversation  and  godliness-'''*  and  how  greatly 
does  it  become  us  to  *'  hold  this  mystery  of  the  faith  in 
a  pure  conscience  /" 


SERMON  V. 

ON  NATURAL  RELIGION. 


ST.  JOHN,  xiv.  8. 


**  Philip  saith  unto  him.  Lord  show  us  the  Father, 
and  it  sufficeth  us.^* 

HOWEVER  inattentive  to  the  impressions  of 
religion  mankind  may  generally  be,  it  is  probable  that 
there  is  not  a  human  being  in  existence  who  has  not, 
on  some  occasions  of  his  life,  felt  the  full  force  of  the 
sentiment  in  the  text.  The  wise  and  the  ignorant,  the 
busy  and  the  gay,  the  prosperous  and  the  unfortunate, 
the  good  and  the  bad,  have  all  their  hours  of  deeper 
and  finer  feeling,  in  which  their  minds,  rising  above 
common  pursuits,  become  sensible  that  a  Father  in 
heaven  must  be  found  to  complete  the  measure  of  their 
enjoyments,  to  alleviate  their  sorrows,  and  to  pardon 
their  sins.  The  language  of  Philip,  therefore,  my 
brethren,  is  the  language  of  human  nature;  and  it 
strikes  upon  our  hearts  as  the  voice  of  a  being  who, 
wandering  over  a  dark  world,  where  error  mis- 
leads, where  vice  betrays,  where  misery  pursues,  and 
where  even  prosperity  cloys,  lifts,  at  times,  an  anxi- 
ous eye  to  the  heavens  which  surround  him,  and 
exclaims  that  all  is  yet  well,  that  nothing  is  yet  to  be 


On  JSi'atural  Peligion.  35 

complained  of,  if  he  can  find  a  Father.     "  Lordy  show 
tis  the  Father y  and  it  sufficeth  us.'*'' 

The  answer  of  our  Lord  to  the  request  of  his  disciple 
is  conveyed  in  language  so  lofty,  and  is  yet  so  gentle 
and  condescending,  that  it  could  have  proceeded  from 
no  other  than  one  who,  with  all  the  feelings  of  the  Son 
of  Man,  knew  that  he  was  the  Son  of  God.  "  Jesus 
saith  unto  him  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you.  and 
yet  hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen 
me  hath  seen  the  Father:  and  how  say  est  thou. then.  Show 
us  the  Father F^^  On  a  future  occasion,  my  brethren,  I 
will  examine  these  words  as  they  apply  to  him  who 
spoke  them.  At  present  it  may  not  be  a  useless  em- 
ployment of  your  time,  if  I  point  out  a  more  general 
answer  which  the  request  of  Philip  might  have  received; 
an  answer  not  iiideed  so  applicable  to  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  stood,  nor  so  satisfactory  in  itself,  yet  more 
adapted  to  the  general  circumstances  of  mankind,  and 
wliich  has  at  least  the  advantage  of  being  ever  ready  at 
hand,  if  we  will  but  open  our  hearts  to  receive  it.  There 
is  no  absolute  necessity  for  a  messenger  from  heaven  to 
inform  us  that  we  have  a  F.tthcr :  whatever  we  see,  or 
hear,  or  feel,  brings  us  assurance  of  this  gieat  and  con- 
solatory truth  ;  and  the  sun  which  blazes  above  our 
heads,  and  "  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  he  hath  or- 
dained,'''' address  us  in  words  which  '-'■  have  gone  out 
through  all  the  earthy  and  to  the  ends  of  the  world. ''^ 

There  is  surciy  no  truth  more  obvious  to  the  human 
mind,  than  that  this  magnificent  universe  which  we  in- 
habit is  an  orderly  and  systematic  scene  ;  that  there  is 
no  confusion  or  disorder  in  the  great  outlines  of  nature; 
and  the  farther  pluiosophy  inquires,  the  more  contri- 


36  On  Natural  Religion. 

vance  and  artifice  it  discovers  in  every  minute  particu- 
lar. This  is  a  fact,  my  brethren  ;  and  this  suffices  us. 
It  shows  us  the  Father  ;  it  shows  us  the  mind  by  which 
nature  is  governed  ;  and  tells  us,  in  language  which 
cannot  be  misunderstood,  that  wherever  we  move,  wis- 
dom embraces  us. 

But  it  is  not  merely  inanimate  nature  by  which  we 
are  surrounded.  The  world  teems  with  life  ;  and  innu- 
merable orders  of  living  beings  rejoice  in  the  hght  of 
day.  It  is  not  design  and  intelligence  alone  which  the 
volume  of  creation  offers  to  our  eye.  We  likewise 
read  in  glowing  characters  the  traces  of  benevolence ; 
and  the  Father  of  existence  is  also  the  giver  of  good. 
Does  not  this  suffice  us,  my  brethren  ?  Or,  if  man  re- 
quires more  particular  proofs  that  he  has  a  Father,  has 
he  not  received  them  ?  Has  he  not  been  made  but  "  a 
little  lower  than  the  angels^  a?id  beeji  crowned  with  glory 
and  honour  ?  Is  he  not  made  to  have  dominion  over  the 
works  of  the  divine  hands,  and  are  not  all  things  put  un- 
der his  feet?''''  Are  not  the  highest  sources  of  happiness 
opened  up  to  him  in  the  attainment  of  knowledge,  in  his 
social  aftections,  and  in  the  practice  of  virtue  ?  Are 
these,  and  all  the  other  enjoyments  of  his  nature  placed 
within  his  reach,  and  yet  can  he  be  blind  to  the  bounty 
from  which  they  flow  ?  Can  he,  for  a  moment,  suppose 
that  God  careth  not  for  him,  or  that  he  is  thrown  loose 
upon  a  world  where  he  is  forsaken  and  neglected?  True: 
he  must  often  labour  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow  ;  but 
that  seeming  curse  commonly  proves  a  real  blessing. 
True  :  he  is  subject  to  pain,  to  sorrow,  and  to  death  ; 
but  the  rays  of  patience  and  hope  gild  the  clouds  of  his 
^  heaviest  day,  and  the  best  and  happiest  affections  of  his 


On  Natural  Religion.  37 

nature  are  called  out  under  the  salutary  discipline  of  af- 
fliction. 

The  evils  of  life,  my  brethren,  are  confessedly  a  dark 
part  of  the  divine  administration ;  yet  we  commonly  con- 
ceive it  to  be  darker  than  it  is,  and,  unwilling  at  any 
time  to  acknowledge  that  we  require  chastisement,  we 
are  too  apt  to  think  ourselves  harshly  dealt  with,  when 
we  arc  in  truth  receiving  the  most  unequivocal  proofs  of 
our  Father's  love.  "  ylffiiction  cometh  not  forth  out  of 
the  dust^  neither  doth  trouble  spring  out  of  the  ground,'*'' 
There  are  purposes,  frequently  indeed  obscure,  which 
the  most  severe  calamities  are  intended  to  answer. 
There  is  one  purpose  which  they  always  may  effect,  the 
improvement  of  our  moral  nature.  Besides  the  quali- 
ties of  patience  and  fortitude,  which  are  exercised  only 
in  the  season  of  sorrow  and  of  danger,  how  often  does  it 
happen  that  our  religious  sentiments  are  for  the  first  time 
acquired,  or  are  fully  confirmed  in  those  trying  moments 
alone  !  And,  while  the  bounty  of  our  heavenly  Father 
is  too  often  received  with  thoughtless  ingratitude,  how 
many  fly  to  him  for  comfort  when  they  have  no  other 
hope  on  which  they  can  depend!  Shall  we  speak  then 
of  the  evils  of  life  as  affording  a  presumption  that  we 
have  no  Father  who  carcth  for  us,  when  it  is  apparent 
that  many  of  his  children  discover  him  only  amidst  the 
gloom  of  those  evils  ?  Is  it  a  proof  that  our  Father  de- 
sires not  our  good,  because  he  desires  that  we  should 
find  our  good  only  in  finding  out  him  ? 

The  inquiry,  then,  which  man  on  some  occasions  se 
earnestly  makes,  may  receive  an  easy  answer.  "  Shoxi' 
us  the  Father, ^^  we  say,  "  and  it  sufficeth  ?/.?."  The 
answer  is,  you  behold  Jiim; — not,  indeed,  face  to  face. 


38  On  Natural  Religion. 

for  can  man  look  on  God  and  live  ?  but  you  see  him  in 
the  manner  best  adapted  to  your  feeble  powers,  to  the 
station  which  you  hold  among  his  creatures.  You  be- 
hold him  in  his  works  ;  in  the  happiness  of  the  bf  ings 
which  he  has  formed  ;  in  the  course  of  human  affairs  ; 
even  in  the  midst  of  your  afflictions.  Does  not  thih  suf- 
fice you  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  inspire  you  with  gratitude, 
to  dispel  doubt,  to  enjoin  resignation,  to  awaken  hope, 
and  confirm  faith  ? 

What  proofs  or  evidences,  my  brethren,  can  we  de- 
sire ?  Because  God  does  not  make  himself  more  fully 
known  to  us,  shall  we  not  thankfully  receive  the  know- 
ledge which  we  have  ?  Is  it  not  an  immense  privilege 
of  our  being  that  we  know  any  thing  of  the  Father  at 
all  ?  and,  when  we  consider  the  prodigious  disproportion 
between  the  Creator  and  the  creature,  how  wonderful  is 
even  that  little  knowledge  which  we  possess  !  How 
much  this  knowledge  has  been  improved  by  the  revela- 
tion of  Christ,  I  propose  hereafter  to  explain ;  but,  at 
present,  can  we  be  deaf  to  the  voice  of  nature  herself? 
and  is  it  possible  that  we  should  not  behold  her  august 
form  rising  and  addressing  us  in  the  very  same  words 
of  tacit  reproof  with  which  our  Lord  addressed  his  dis- 
ciples ?  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet 
have  ye  not  known  me?  He  that  liath  seen  me  hath 
seen  the  Father;  and  how  say  ye,  then,  Shoxv  us  the 
Father?'' 

These  reflections  have  been  suggested  to  me  from 
contemplating  the  character  of  the  age  in  which  we  live 
as  an  age  of  philosophical  inquiry.     Men  are  no  longer 
satisfied  with  surveying  the  outward   appearances   ofv 
tilings ;  they  follow  nature  into  ht;r  deepest  recesses ; 


On  Natural  Religion.  39 

and,  both  in  the  material  system  and  in  the  course  of 
huinan  affairs,  they  are  eager  to  explore  those  leading 
and  general  laws,  by  which  many  detached  and  appa- 
rendy  contradictory  particulars  may  be  connected  and 
reconciled.  The  attempt  is  great,  my  brethren,  and 
worthy  of  man ;  and  the  success  which  it  has  met  with 
in  every  department  of  human  knowledge  encourages 
him  to  proceed.  Yet  why  should  it  have  happened, 
that  the  noblest  of  all  the  occupations  in  which  the 
mind  of  man  can  be  engaged,  should  ever  be  suspect- 
ed to  have  any  alliance  \vith  the  lowest  and  most  de- 
grading imagination  which  he  can  form ;  and  why  should 
those  whose  great  object  it  is  to  elucidate  the  fair  volume 
of  creation,  while,  with  one  hand,  they  point  to  the 
order  and  wisdom  which  it  displays,  be  supposed  ca- 
pable of  forming  the  vain  and  impious  design  to  blot 
out,  with  the  other,  the  name  of  its  gracious  author  ? 
Why  should  philosophy  and  religion,  which  are  so 
closely  joined,  ever  be  imagined  capable  of  disunion? 
or  why  should  those  who  are  followers  of  the  one  ever 
miss  the  path  which  leads  them  to  the  other  ? 

I  doubt  not  that  the  popular  suspicion  which  pursues 
the  philosophical  character,  is  in  a  great  measure  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  mean  jealousy  of  narrow  and  bigotted 
opinions;  and  I  know  that,  in  this  country  at  least,  there 
are  men,  the  purity  of  whose  devotion  is  commensurate 
with  the  extent  of  their  science.  It  is,  however,  melan- 
choly to  reflect,  that  any  foundation  should  have  been 
given  for  so  black  a  stigma  on  the  philosophy  of  our 
age,  that  any  "  stars  should  have  shot  madly  from  their 
spheres,"  or  that  any  name  which  the  votaries  of  sci- 
ence repeat  with  t^ratitude  and  veneration,  should  be 


40  On  Natural  Religion. 

associated  in  our  minds  with  the  dark  impressions  of 
impiety.  It  is  sad  to  think  that  "  offences  have  come.'''* 
"  But  woe  to  those  by  whom  the  offence  cometh  /*'  These 
prophetic  words,  my  brethren,  have,  in  our  time*, 
been  fulfilled  ;  and  in  those  countries  in  which  the  in- 
vestigations of  philosophy  have  been  more  productive 
of  pride  than  of  piety,  the  fury  of  the  sword  is  at  last 
giving  instructions  which  all  the  beauty  and  beneficence 
of  nature  had  inculcated  in  vain.  Driven  out  from  the 
scene  of  his  domestic  repose,  a  wretched  outcast  on  a 
miserable  world,  more  than  one  "  dark  idolater  of 
chance"  is,  I  doubt  not,  at  this  hour  raising  his  eye  to 
heaven,  and  crying  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  "  show 
us  the  Father.''*  Our  day,  my  brethren,  is  not  yet 
come ;  and  may  that  paternal  arm  which  has  hitherto 
been  held  over  us,  still  cover  our  heads  with  its  pro- 
tecting shield !  Yet  the  decree  may  have  gone  forth, 
and  the  hand- writing  may  already  have  appeared  upon 
the  wall. — "  Thou,  too,  hast  been  weighed  in  the  balance^ 
and  art  found  wanting  J*"* 

These  reflections  call  upon  us  all  to  be  serious.  They 
call  upon  those  who  are  advanced  in  life  to  root  out 
from  their  minds  every  sentiment  or  opinion  which 
may  oppose  itself  to  the  knowledge  of  God,  to  open 
their  hearts,  and  to  contemplate,  with  renewed  spirits, 
that  mighty  display  of  wisdom  and  love  which  every- 
where surrounds  them.  If  they  have  not  yet  known  the 
Father,  these  reflections  call  upon  them  to  know  him 
now ;  and  they  send  them,  not  to  any  hidden  fountain 
of  knowledge,  to  any  dark  inquiry,  but  to  that  book  of 

*  i8or. 


On  Natural  Religion.  41 

nature  whir-h  is  open  to  every  eye,  and  which  many  are 
so  curious  to  explore.  Parents  are  called  upon  to  im- 
press the  principles  of  piety  on  the  hearts  of  the  young; 
to  "  show  them  the  Father  ;'''*  and  while  they  supply 
them  with  the  means  of  instruction  in  every  branch  of 
liberal  knowledge,  to  point  out  to  them  those  traces  of 
wisdom  and  benevolence  in  nature,  of  which  all  science 
is  full,  and  without  the  perception  of  which  all  science 
is  unsatisfactory  and  dead.  Teach  your  children  to 
have  minds  superior  to  that  miserable  folly  which  would 
represent  religion  as  the  refuge  only  of  the  weak  and 
ignorant ;  show  them,  by  your  own  example,  and  by 
the  example  of  the  great  and  good  in  every  age,  that  it 
is  the  true  source  of  all  genuine  dignity  of  mind.  Be 
not  too  anxious  about  their  success  in  the  paths  of 
worldly  ambition,  or  in  the  acquisition  of  external  and 
fallacious  accomplishments ;  inspire  them,  above  all 
things,  with  the  love  of  God  and  of  virtue  ;  "  show 
them  the  Father ^  and  that  will  suffice  them,^"* 


SERMON  VI. 

ON  REVEALED  RELIGION. 


ST.  JOHN,  xiv.  y. 


'*  Jesus  saith  unto  h'lm^  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me^  Philip  ?  He 
that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father;  and  how 
say  est  thou,  then^  Show  us  the  Father  ?" 

THE  request  of  Philip  to  our  Lord  led  me,  my 
brethren,  in  a  former  discourse,  to  point  out  that  reply 
which  it  might  have  received  from  the  suggestions  of 
nature,  even  if  he  to  whom  the  request  was  addressed 
had  not  given  the  answer  which  you  have  now  heard. 
"  Show  us  the  Father  (said  Philip),  andit  sufficethus.^"* 
Nature,  as  we  have  seen,  might  have  replied,  you  be- 
hold him  *'  wherever  you  live,  and  move,  and  have  your 
being :''''  in  "  the  heavens,  the  work  of  his  fingers,  the 
sun,  and  the  tnoon,  and  the  stars,  which  he  hath  ordain- 
(?r//"  in  the  earth,  which  he  "  hath  founded  upon  the 
seas,  and  established  upon  the  foods  .•"  in  '*  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  whatsoever  passeth 
through  the  paths  of  the  seas:^^  in  "  man,  of  whom  he 
is  mindful,  and  the  son  of  man  whom  he  hath  visited, 
whom  he  hath  made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  ana 
hath  crowned  with  glory  and  honour.''^ 


On  Revealed  Religion.  43 

The  answer  of  our  Lord  to  his  disciple  does  not  at  all 
supercede  this  general  language  of  nature  to  all  the 
children  of  men  ;  it  is,  however,  a  different  answer ; 
and  to  those  who  are  accustomed  to  derive  their  religi- 
ous  impressions  from  natural  appearances  alone,  it  may 
perhaps  seem  to  have  been  in  a  great  measure  superflu- 
ous. Yet  it  was  a  reply  which  many  wise  and  good 
men  of  former  ages  had  longed  to  hear,  the  anticipation 
of  which  had  brightened  the  inspirations  of  ancient  pro- 
phets  and  kings,  and  which  we,  my  brethren,  at  this 
hour*,  when  we  are  preparing  to  fall  down  and  worship 
before  the  humble  cradle  of  him  who  came  into  the  world 
to  save  us,  know,  I  trust,  in  what  manner  to  prize,  and 
to  receive  with  thankfulness  and  joy.  "  Jesus  saith 
unto  him^  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you.  and  yet 
hast  thou  not  known  me.  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen  me 
hath  seen  the  Father  ;  and  how  say  est  thou,  then^  Show 
ns  the  Father  ?" 

It  will  not  be  expected,  nor  indeed  would  it  be  suita- 
ble to  the  province  of  the  pulpit,  that  I  should  take  oc- 
casion, from  these  words,  to  enter  into  any  formal  expo- 
sition  of  the  evidences  of  Revelation.  It  is  impossible, 
however,  to  neglect  the  opportunity  which  they  afford 
me,  of  making  some  very  general  observations,  which 
may  be  useful  to  those  who  are  directing  their  thoughts 
to  this  inquiry. 

The  leading  ground  upon  which  those  proceed  who 
deny  the  authority  of  revelation  is,  that  it  is  unnecessa- 
ry ;  and  that  nature  and  reason  can  supply  us  wirh  ill 
the  religious  knowledge  which  we  require.     Now,  ad- 

*  Season  of  Advent. 


44  On  Revealed  Religion* 

mitting  to  those  who  maintain  this  opinion,  that  there 
is  nothing  deficient  in  the  intimations  concerning  God 
and  his  laws  which  we  derive  from  these  sources,  there 
still  occurs  an  important  observation,  which  does  not 
seem  to  strike  them  with  the  force  which  it  deserves. 
In  considering  the  subject  of  religion,  a  material  distinc- 
tion is  to  be  made  between  what  it  appears  to  us  may 
be  (.  fFected  by  the  unassisted  powers  of  the  human  mind, 
and  what  the  history  of  mankind  informs  us  has  been 
actually  effected  by  them.  The  natural  evidences  of 
religion  may  appear  to  us  very  clear  and  indisputable ; 
and  yet  we  know  that,  not  two  thousand  years  ago, 
these  evidences  were  very  imperfectly  discerned  by  phi- 
losophers themselves,  and  that  mankind  in  general  were 
involved  in  the  grossest  darkness  and  idolatry. 

Supposing,  then,  that  revelation  added  nothing  to  the 
religion  of  nature,  it  yet  seems  to  have  been  necessary 
for  introducing  into  the  world  clear  and  just  views  of 
religion,  at  the  time,  and  in  the  degree  in  which  it  was 
the  intention  of  Providence  that  such  views  should  pre- 
vail ;  nor,  certainly,  have  we  any  reason  to  suppose  that 
men  would  ever  have  advanced  one  step  in  rational 
opinions  on  this  most  important  of  all  subjects,  if  Chris- 
tianity had  not  opened  their  eyes,  and  rendered  them 
sensible  arid  ashamed  of  their  folly.  Even  admitting, 
therefore,  that  reason  and  philosophy  might  possibly 
have  led  men  to  just  notions  of  religion,  this  at  least  is 
certain,  that,  in  point  of  fact,  they  never  did  so ;  and 
that,  till  the  aera  of  the  Christian  revelation,  the  prin- 
ciples of  natural  religion  were  almost  as  little  under- 
stood, by  the  bulk  of  mankind,  as  the  scheme  of  their 
future  redemption.    He,  therefore,  who  spoke  the  words 


On  Revealed  Religion,  45 

of  the  text,  may  justly  claim  the  praise,  that  while 
these  gifts  of  heaven  failed  to  produce  this  fiuit  to  the 
wise  themselves,  he  first  showed  the  Father  to  the  great 
multitude  of  mankind. 

1  do  not,  however,  my  brethren,  rest  the  cause  of 
revelation  here.  I  deny  that  any  description  of  men, 
the  most  enlightened  of  the  human  race,  can,  with  any 
reason,  pretend  to  undervalue  the  light  of  Christianity  ; 
and  the  words  of  our  Lord  to  Philip  were  not  only 
adapted  to  the  capacity  of  the  unlettered  individual  to 
whom  they  were  spoken,  but  may,  at  this  day,  be  ad- 
dressed, with  all  their  original  efficacy,  to  the  best  in- 
structed and  most  philosophical  of  the  sons  of  men. 
*'  He  that  hath  seen  ?ne  (says  our  Lord)  hath  seen  the 
Father. ''"'  A  few  illusuations  of  the  import  of  these 
expressions  will,  1  believe,  fully  establish  the  assertion 
which  I  have  now  made. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  our  Saviour  "  showed  the 
Father.,''''  by  exhibiting  in  human  nature  a  model  of 
divine  perfection.  It  is  here,  probably,  that  natural 
religion  is  most  obviously  defective.  Man  feels  that  he 
is  unworthy  of  his  Maker ;  and  cannot  form  to  himself 
any  distinct  or  satisfactory  ideas  of  the  Bt- ing  to  whom 
he  is  eager  to  approach.  Nature,  indeed,  is  grand  and 
harmonious,  and  reflects,  at  least  from  her  great  out- 
lines, the  image  of  the  majesty,  and  the  goodness  of 
God  ;  but  man  is  conscious  in  himself  of  disorder  and 
corruption  ;  and  the  "  still  small  voice''''  of  nature  is  not 
heard  amidst  the  earthquakes,  the  tempests,  and  the 
fires  which  lay  waste  the  human  mind.  It  is  this  feel- 
ing which  clearly  has  given  birth  to  all  the  extrava- 
gancies of  superstition.     LTn^ble  to  resist  the  impulse 


46  On  Revealed  Religion. 

which  calls  upon  him  to  beiid  before  invisible  power, 
yet  incapable,  from  his  own  imperfections,  of  forming 
any  just  conception  of  the  God  whom  it  becomes  him 
to  adore,  man  at  all  times,  instead  of  exhibiting  in  him- 
self the  image  of  his  Maker,  has  represented  the  divine 
nature  under  the  infinite  variety  of  images  suggested  by 
his  own  weakness,  ignorance,  and  vices.  Before,  there- 
fore, he  could  become  acquainted  with  God,  it  seemed 
to  be  necessary  that  he  should  himself  appear  in  a  form 
worthy  of  the  Deity  ;  nor  could  the  Father  be  revealed 
to  him,  while  there  was  no  example  in  human  nature  of 
•'  that  beloved  Sojiy  in  whom  the  Father  might  be  well 
pleased.'*'' 

Here,  then,  revelation  supplies  us  with  a  link  which 
was  wanting  in  the  chain  of  religious  truth,  and  without 
which  religion  cannot  be  rendered  firm  and  indissolu- 
ble in  the  human  soul.  It  is  in  the  person  of  our  Sa- 
viour alone,  that  the  connection  between  man  and  his 
Maker  can  distinctly  be  traced;  that  the  gulph  which 
separates  the  Creator  from  his  imperfect  creature  is  fill- 
ed up;  and  that  man  now  feels  the  strong  and  unbrok- 
en chain  which  connects  him  with  the  throne  of  God, 
and  the  treasures  of  eternity. 

How  necessary  this  bond  of  union  is,  will  appear 
clearly  from  the  history  of  errors  in  religion,  both  in  an- 
cient and  modern  times.  The  prevailing  error  of  an- 
cient times  was  idolatry;  which,  as  I  have  already  ex- 
plained, rose  evidently  from  the  indistinct  and  wander- 
ing conceptions  of  the  divine  nature  at  that  time  inci- 
dent to  the  mind  of  man.  Christianity  banished  idola- 
try for  ever  from  the  world ;  and  this  species  of  error 
cannot  now  mislead  those  who  depart  from  the  faith  of 


On  Revealed  Relighn.  47 

the  Gospel.  They  are,  however,  liable  to  errors  fully 
as  monstrous,  and  perhaps  more  pernicious.  It  seldom 
happens  that  those  who  abandon  Christianity  settle  in 
any  rational  form  of  natural  belief;  and,  when  they  do, 
their  systems  are  invariably  borrowed  from  that  revela- 
tion which  they  pretend  to  undervalue.  The  melan- 
choly history  of  the  philosophy  of  our  times,  however, 
will  inform  us,  that  they  much  more  frequently  run  into 
the  thoughtless  indifference  of  scepticism,  or  even  into 
the  horrible  perversion  of  blind  and  determined  atheism. 
The  bond  of  Christianity  being  broken,  the  mind  is 
thrown  loose  to  its  own  extravagant  chimeras,  and  the 
pretender  to  philosophy  now,  no  less  than  the  savage  in 
former  times,  although  in  a  manner  more  perverse  and 
laborious,  loses  sight  of  the  Father. 

I  know  not,  my  brethren,  whether,  in  these  observa- 
tions, I  liave  made  myself  completely  understood  ;  the 
leading  idea,  however,  upon  which  they  proceed  is, 
I  believe,  perfectly  just, — that  natural  religion  is  de- 
fective, inasmuch  as  it  leaves  a  wide  and  gloomy  chasm 
between  man  and  his  Maker,  in  consequence  of  the 
imperfections  and  vices  of  the  human  character ;  and 
that  this  chasm  is  filled  up  by  the  form  of  perfection 
exhibited  in  the  character  of  Jesus.  The  observations 
which  follow  are  more  obvious  and  familiar. 

Our  Lord,  in  the  second  place,  ''  shoxved  the  Fa- 
ther'''' of  mankind  in  his  moral  government.  It  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  for  us  to  know,  that  the  world 
is  governed  on  the  principles  of  justice,  and  that  the 
great  Being  by  whom  it  is  conducted,  will  finally  ren- 
der unto  every  man  according  to  his  works.  The 
disorders  which  at  present   prevail,   are   not,    indeed, 


48  On  Revealed  Religion. 

sufficient  to  prevent  a  sound  mind  from  drawing  this 
conclusion  from  the  natural  suggestions  of  conscience, 
and  from  the  general  appearance  of  the  divine  admi- 
nistration ;  yet  doubts  upon  this  subject  may  very  na- 
turally intervene  ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  the  Father  of 
men  to  give  his  children  more  positive  assurances 
that  such  is  the  rule  of  his  government.  I  need  not 
occupy  your  time  with  proving  that  this  is  most  am- 
ply done  in  the  religion  of  Christ. 

In  the  last  place,  our  Saviour  **  showed  the  Father''^ 
m  his  mercy.  The  mercy  of  God,  we  may  suppose 
from  nature,  will  be  vouchsafed  to  all  men  who  turn 
from  the  evil  of  their  ways  ;  but  this,  too,  is  doubtful ; 
and  the  trembling  conscience  of  the  repentant  sinner 
requires  to  be  assured.  Need  I  point  out  how  admi- 
rably this  is  effected  in  the  religion  of  the  Master  whom 
we  serve  ;  how  eager  he  expresses  himself,  on  all  oc- 
casions, to  call  in  the  wandering  into  his  foid ;  how 
ready  the  Father  is,  he  assures  us,  to  forgive  and  to  re- 
ceive on  the  first  symptoms  of  penitence  !  The  whole 
system  of  Christianity,  indeed,  is  founded  upon  this 
single  idea.  Repentance,  and  its  happy  effects,  was  the 
first  doctrine  which  our  Saviour  taught,  and  the  last 
doctrine,  the  efficacy  of  which  he  sealed  with  his  blood 
upon  the  cross. 

Much  more,  my  brethren,  might  be  added  to  these 
important  discussions;  but  I  must  now  leave  the  whole 
subject  to  your  own  meditations.  The  imperfect  ob- 
servations v/hich  I  have  made  are,  however,  I  trust,  suf- 
ficient to  point  out  some  circumstances  in  Christianity 
which  ought  to  render  it  a  subject  of  much  more  atten- 
tion than  it  is  usual  with  many  to  bestow  upon  it.     In 


On  Revealed  Religiori.  49 

the  course  of  these  observations,  I  have  confined  myself 
entirely  to  general  views,  nor  have  1  been  anxious  to 
hold  out  any  one  system  of  Christian  belief  as  preferable 
to  every  other.  It  would  be  conducive,  I  believe,  to 
the  interests  of  their  common  faith,  if,  throwii.g  aside 
all  points  of  doubtful  disputation.  Christians  of  every 
denomination  would  fix  their  eyes  with  undivided  atten- 
tion on  the  great  leading  fact  which  runs  through  all 
their  creeds, — that  He  in  whose  name  they  are  baptized, 
is  the  pillar  of  fire  given  them  to  direct  their  course 
through  the  night  and  the  wilderness  of  mortality;  "  the 
sun  of  righteousness^  who  has  risen  with  healing  in  his 
wings^''"'  upon  the  darkness  of  their  nature, — in  one 
word,  "  the  Christy  the  Son  of  the  living  God,  whose  y*^ 
and  whose  only,  '*  are  the  words  of  eternal  I fe.''^ 

In  a  former  discourse,  I  took  occasion  to  express  my 
regret  that  the  voice  of  nature  should  ever  utter  lan- 
guage which  is  not  heard,  or  that  any  men,  especially 
those  whose  reputation  for  science  has  bestowed  upon 
them  a  character  of  authority,  should  fall  under  the 
possible  suspicion  that,  in  examining  the  works  of  the 
Divine  hand,  they  can  be  blind  to  the  discovery  of  Him 
by  whom  these  works  are  formed.  I  now  express  a 
similar  regret,  that  any  of  those  whose  names  are  distin- 
guished for  letters  or  genius,  should  ever  have  written  or 
spoken  disparagingly  of  revelation ;  and  it  is  with  a  feeling 
of  horror  that  I  look  to  the  fiUai  effects  their  wild  and 
unthinking  infidelity  has  produced  in  the  world.  How 
often,  alas !  have  they  offended,  not  one,  but  many  of 
these  little  ones ;  and  how  often  in  our  day,  as  in  the 
hour  of  crucifixion,  must  he  whom  thty  denied,  h.ive 
addressed  his  Father  in  the  memorable  words,  ^'  Father 

G 


50  On  Revealed  Religion, 

forgive  them^  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.''''  All 
I  can  add,  my  brethren,  is  to  warn  the  young,  that 
while  they  read  the  writings  of  these  eminent  men,  they 
should  be  on  their  guard  against  the  poison  contained 
in  them :  calling  to  their  recollection,  that  "  wide  is  the 
gate,  and  broad  if  the  way  which  leadeth  to  destruction ^ 
and  many  there  he  xvhich  go  in  thereat ;  but  strait  is  the 
gate,  and  narrow  is  the  rvay,  which  returneth  unto  life, 
and  few  there  be  that  find  it.^^ 


SERMON  VIK 

THE  NATIVITY  OF  CHRIST. 


ST.  MATTHEW,  ii.  11. 

**  And  when  they  ivere  entered  into  the  house^  they  saw 
the  young  child ^  with  Mary  his  mother.'''* 

AT  this  season*,  my  brethren,  our  attention  is 
naturally  turned  to  the  consideration  of  those  circum- 
stances which  the  evangelists  have  related  respecting 
our  Lord's  nativity.  They  are  few  in  number ;  but  it 
is  impossible  to  imagine  any  more  beautiful  and  in- 
teresting. How  much  solemnity  in  the  salutation  of 
the  holy  virgin  by  the  "  angel,  who  came  unto  her  and 
said^  Hail!  thou  that  art  highly  favoured.,  the  Lord  is 
with  thee:  blessed  art  thou  among  xvomen.  JVlien  she  saw 
him  (continues  the  evangelist),  she  xvas  troidAed  at  his 
saying.,  and  cast  in  her  inind  what  manner  of  salutation 
this  should  be.  And  the  angel  said  unto  her.,  Fear  not, 
Mary,  for  thou  hast  found  favour  with  God.  And 
behold  thou  slialt  cojiceive  and  bring  forth  a  Son,  and 
shalt  call  his  name  Jesus.  He  shall  be  great,  and  shall 
be  called  the  Son  of  the  Highest ;  and  the  Lord  God 
shall  give  unto  him  the  throne  of  his  father  David;  and 

'  Ciinstma<5. 


52  The  Nativity  of  Christ. 

he  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob  for  ever,  and  of 
his  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end."*^ 

The  vision  of  angels  which  appeared  to  the  shep- 
herds at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  birth,  is  another  circum- 
stance of  inimitable  beauty.  "  There  were  in  the  same 
country  shepherds  abiding  in  the  field,  keeping  watch  over 
their  fiock  by  night.  And,  lo  !  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
came  upon  them,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone  round 
about  than,  arid  they  were  sore  afraid.  And  the  angel 
said  unto  them^  Fear  not;  for,  behold,  I  bring  unto  you 
good  tidings  of  great  joy.  which  shall  be  to  all  people. 
For  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a 
Saviour,' which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  suddenly  there 
was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host 
praising  God,  and  saying.  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest , 
and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  toward  men.^^ 

My  text  is  taken  from  the  account  of  another  inci- 
dent, not  less  striking  than  any  of  those  already  mention- 
ed, and  which  marks,  perhaps,  in  still  stronger  colours, 
the  universal  importance  of  that  event  which  was  then 
transacting  in  the  world :  the  account  I  mean  of  the 
journey  undertaken  by  the  wise  men  from  the  east, 
in  search  of  that  prince  whose  approaching  birth  they 
had  been  taught  to  expect,  and  guided  by  the  star, 
which  led  them  on  rejoicing,  till  it  brought  them  to  the 
place  where  he  was  found. 

The  beauty  and  solemnity  of  these  miraculous  occur- 
rences are  greatly  enhanced  by  the  plain  and  homely 
character  of  the  natural  appearances  with  which  they  are 
contrasted,  and  with  which,  at  the  same  time,  they  so 
harmoniously  combine.  The  mighty  event  which  call- 
ed down  an  angel  of  God  to  visit  the  virgin  solitude  of 


The  NatwitJj  of  CJirist.  53 

the  daughter  of  David;  which  brought  the  host  of  hea- 
ven to  speak  peace  and  joy  to  the  simple  innocence  of 
shepherds  ;  which  interrupted  the  calm  speculations  of 
the  eastern  sages,  and  impelled  them  to  follow  a  mira- 
culous sign  into  a  foreign  land ;  seemed,  to  all  out- 
ward appearance,  to  be  nothing  more  than  the  birth  of 
a  child  in  some  of  the  lowest  circumstances  of  human 
fortune.  "  When  they  tv ere  come  into  the  house  (says 
the  evangelist,  speaking  of  the  wise  men),  they  saw  the 
young  child,  with  Mary  his  inother.'''' 

It  is  possible,  my  brethren,  that  this  simple  and  un- 
imposing  form  in  which  our  Saviour  is  first  presented 
to  us,  may  operate  with  some  minds  to  the  prejudice  of 
his  religion:  I  shall,  therefore,  endeavour,  in  a  very  few 
words,  to  show  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  affords  a  strong- 
confirmation  of  its  truth;  that  it  corresponds  exactly 
with  the  wants  and  wishes  of  the  human  heart;  and, 
finally,  that  there  is  a  striking  coincidence  between  this 
first  appearance  of  our  Lord,  and  the  whole  genius  and 
spirit  of  Christian  it}'. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  is  it  possible  that  any  messen- 
ger from  heaven  could  come  before  us  in  circumstances 
more  completely  inconsistent  with  the  supposition  of 
artifice  or  imposture?  "  IVlien  they  xv ere  come  into  the 
house^  they  beheld  the  young  chikU  with  Mary  his  mo- 
thery  What  is  there  here  to  excite  our  most  jealous 
apprehensions,  or  to  afford  a  grour.d  of  suspicion  to  the 
most  vigilant  distrust  ?  Is  it  possible  that,  in  this  sim. 
pie  domestic  scene,  the  seeds  of  deception  should  be 
striking  root?  Was  the  mother  mingling  with  her 
caresses  the  proud  thought  that  her  son  was  destined  to 
lead  after  him  a  deluded  world?  or  was  the  infant,  while 


54  The  Nativity  of  Christ, 

he  answered  to  her  smiles,  dreaming  of  the  enterprise 
which  lay  before  him?  When  we  behold  a  dark-mind- 
ed prophet  issuing  from  the  depth  of  solitudes  and  de- 
serts, infusing  a  lofty  enthusiasm  into  the  minds  of  a  bar- 
barous people,  and  leading  them  on  to  conquest  and  de- 
vastation, we,  who  are  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  delu- 
sion, can  at  once  affirm,  notwithstanding  the  splendour 
of  his  success,  that  he  owed  it  to  hypocrisy  and  decep- 
tion. How  different  the  scene  here  presented  to  us  ! 
It  is  humble,  and  makes  no  pretensions ;  but  it  finds  its 
way  into  our  souls  by  the  same  passages  by  which  truth 
is  conveyed  to  them.  When  we  are  in  the  presence  of 
*'  the  young  child^  and  Mary  his  mother ^^"^  do  not  our 
hearts  inform  us,  that  the  God  of  truth  is  not  far  from 
us? 

In  the  second  place,  I  affirm,  that  the  very  humility 
of  this  scene  is  the  circumstance  to  which  the  human 
heart  must  be  most  attached,  however  it  may  disappoint 
some  wandering  irregularities  of  the  imagination.  When 
the  children  of  Israel  were  terrified  with  those  awful 
manifestations  of  the  divine  majesty  which  accompanied 
the  promulgation  of  their  law,  their  words  were,  *'  Let 
me  not  hear  again  the  voice  of  the  Lord  my  God,  neither 
let  me  see  this  great  f  re  any  more,  that  I  die  not.'''*  This, 
my  brethren,  is  the  language  of  human  nature.  Encir- 
cled by  the  frailty  of  the  flesh,  man  is  afraid  to  hold  any 
direct  intercourse  with  the  Almighty.  It  was  then  that, 
condescending  to  the  infirmity  of  his  creatures,  God 
said  to  Moses,  "  Ixviil  raise  them  up  a  prophet  from 
among  their  brethren,  like  unto  thee,  and  will  put  my 
words  in  his  mouth.'*'*  What  the  heart  desires  in  a  divine 
instructor  is,  that  while  he  has  the  words  of  God  in  his 


The  Nativity  of  Christ,  55 

mouth,  he  should  yet  be  raised  from  among  his  brethren 
of  mankind.  I  need  not  inform  you  how  remarkably 
this  wish  of  the  human  heart  is  accomplibhed  in  the 
whole  dispensation  of  Christianity,  or  how  admirably  the 
character  and  condition  of  our  Saviour  at  all  times  cor- 
respond with  the  description  of  a  prophet  who,  possess- 
ing the  words  of  the  living  God,  was  yet  subject  to  all 
the  feelings  and  affections  of  a  man,  and  was  often  se- 
verely "  touched  with  a  sense  of  our  infrmities/''  I  am 
only  at  present  led  to  remark  to  you  in  what  a  pleasing 
manner  this  circumstance  is  corroborated  by  the  little 
simple  incident  now  before  us,  and  the  short  glimpse 
afforded  us  of  the  infant  years  of  Jesus,  while  he 
was  yet  an  inmate  in  the  house  of  his  parents,  and  be- 
fore  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  execute  the  mighty 
designs  for  which  he  was  sent  into  the  world.  How 
beautifully  is  the  awful  character  of  a  supernatural  in- 
structor, softened  down  by  these  means  to  our  hearts 
and  affections  !  Can  we  be  afraid  of  approaching  a  child  ? 
Is  there  any  thing  in  the  house  of  Mary  which  can  ex- 
cite our  apprehension  and  alarm  ? 

My  third  remark  was,  that  there  is  a  very  striking 
coincidence  between  this  first  appearance  of  our  Lord, 
and  the  whole  genius  and  spirit  of  Christianity,  It  is  a 
remarkable  characteristic  of  our  religion,  that  while  it  is 
doing  every  thing  for  the  good  of  mankind  which  can 
be  done,  it  yet  seems  to  be  doing  nothing.  It  resides 
in  the  hearts  of  the  faithful,  and  silently  influences  the 
conduct  of  their  lives.  It  flows  in  a  quiet  stream 
through  nations  and  communities  of  men,  and  by  an  un- 
observed principle  of  improvement,  relines  and  beau- 
tifies their  manners  and  institutions.  It  is  secretly,  and 
by  slow  degrees,  bringing  in  that   "  better  kingdom. 


56  The  Nativity  of  Christ. 

wherein  dwelleth  eternal  righteousness  ;''''  and  yet,  to  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  every  thing  seems  to  be  proceeding  as 
it  had  done  from  the  beginning.  With  this  gentle  and 
unobstrusive  form,  in  which  Christianity  at  all  times  ap- 
pears to  us,  the  history  of  its  introduction  corresponds. 
The  miracles  which  then  accompanied  its  progress  were 
exhibited  to  those  only  who  could  feel  their  value.  No 
vain  display  of  prodigies  interrupted  the  course  of  na- 
ture and  the  business  of  the  world  ;  no  portents  of  terror 
shook  the  world  at  the  descent  of  its  Creator.  When 
the  eastern  sages  came  with  splendid  offerings,  in  ex- 
pectation of  finding  some  royal  babe,  they  were  intro- 
duced to  the  lowly  dwelling  and  the  humble  group  of 
the  text,   "  the  young  child,  with  Mary  his  mother.'^'' 

Farther,  my  brethren,  Christianity  is  the  religion  of 
love  and  mercy  ; — and,  therefore,  its  Author  is  first  pre- 
sented to  us  in  the  most  amiable  of  all  human  forms.  It 
is  the  religion  of  a  pure  and  simple  heart ; — and  its  Au- 
thor first  appears  to  us  in  the  very  shape  and  image  of 
simplicity  and  innocence.  "  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me  (says  he),  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  ;" — and  he  himself  accordingly  first  comes  to  us 
as  a  little  child.  When  the  law  was  given  to  the  Jews, 
it  was  proclaimed  with  circumstances  of  terror  corre- 
sponding to  the  nature  of  the  institution.  The  voice  of 
God  was  heard  from  Mount  Sinai,  speaking  from  the 
thunders  and  lightnings.  The  gospel  of  peace  springs 
up  to  us  from  the  cradle  of  an  inilint ! — I  forbear,  my 
brethren,  to  pursue  these  reflections  farther.  Your  own 
meditations  will  supply  their  deficiencies.  Pei-mit  me 
rather,  before  I  conclude,  to  suggest  to  your  thoughts 
a  few  observations  of  a  more  practical  tendency. 


The  Nativity  of  Christ,  57 

You  are  now,  then,  advancing  to  the  contemplation 
of  a  scene  altogether  heavenly,  and  glorious,  and  joyful: 
no  other  than  the  union  of  heaven  and  earth, — the  de- 
scent of  the  First-born  from  the  bosom  of  his  everlast- 
ing Father  into  the  mortal  arms  of  maternal  love.  You 
are  advancing  to  behold  whatever  is  pure,  and  simple, 
and  wise  among  men,  bending  around  the  cradle  of  the 
infant  Saviour  ;  to  behold  the  heavens  opening,  and  a 
multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  descending ;  and  to  hear 
that  hymn  of  praise  which  has  for  ever  encirclfd  the 
eternal  throne,  now  uniting  to  the  strain  of  "  Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest ^^^  the  welcome  sounds  of  "  peace  o?t 
earthy  and  good  will  towards  men."*^  Such  are  the  scenes 
of  moral  and  celestial  beauty  which  the  church  is  now 
disclosing  to  you  ;  and  such  the  real  magnificence,  un- 
polluted by  the  vain  additions  of  worldly  splendour,  with 
which,  when  she  throws  open  her  "  everlasting  doors ^'''* 
you  behold  *'  the  King  of  glory  enter  iny 

Other  scenes  are  indeed  behind.  You  must  yet  fol- 
low your  Sovereign  through  his  triumphant  sufferings, 
and  view  him  when  he  is  crowned  only  with  thorns,  and 
elevated  in  agony  on  the  cross.  These  scenes  you  are 
about  to  anticipate  at  the  altar,  and  I  pray  to  God  thtU: 
their  influence  may  be  felt  on  every  heart.  The  cross, 
my  brethren,  will  there  remind  you,  that  you  have  afflic- 
tions to  endure,  and  sins  to  be  repented  of;  but  it  will 
recal  these  recollections  to  your  minds,  accompanied 
with  the  powerful  consolation,  that  one  has  gone  before 
you  who  will  strengthen  you  in  all  your  sufferings,  and 
who  has  obtained  for  you  the  remission  of  your  sins. 
Persevere,  therefore,  in  your  Christian  profession  •  let 
not  the  cross  of  Christ  be  to  you  a  "  stumbling-block^^'* 

H 


58  The  Nativity  of  Christ. 

or  '■^foolishness.''''  When  that  scene  of  humiHation  is 
over,  you  will  again  behold  the  glories  of  heaven  un- 
veiled, and  him  who  bowed  his  head  for  your  sakes  up- 
on the  cross,  again  rising  triumphant  from  the  darkness 
of  the  grave  ;  and  you  will  hear  his  divine  voice  calling 
upon  you  to  follow  him,  without  terror  or  distrust, 
through  "  the  valley  of  the  shadoxv  of  deaths  Follow 
him  then  in  life  and  in  death ;  and  when  all  these  pre- 
sent things  shall  have  passed  away,  and  when  time  shall 
be  no  more,  you  will  yet  reign  with  him  through  the 
ages  of  eternity. 

But  it  is  not  merely  the  church,  my  brethren,  which 
at  this  time  invites  us  to  participate  in  its  joys.  Thq 
world,  too,  has  joys  of  its  own  ;  and  they,  I  fear,  com- 
monly gain  the  precedence  in  our  minds.  Yet,  at  this 
auspicious  season,  there  is  one  very  beautiful  link  by 
'which  the  church  and  the  world  are  connected.  You 
have  it  in  my  text.  *'  JVhen  they  were  come  into  the 
house^  they  beheld  the  young  child^  with  Mary  his  mo- 
ther.'''* Go,  then,  and  enjoy  the  society  of  families  and 
friends,  the  meeting  of  mothers  and  their  children.  Yet 
go  in  the  spirit  of  religion,  not  with  the  thoughtless  in- 
gratitude of  man.  Go  as  the  children  of  God,  and  ac- 
knowledge amidst  your  enjoyments  the  hand  from  which 
they  flow ;  and,  when  you  look  upon  the  countenances 
of  those  Vvhom  you  love  upon  earth,  breathe  the  secret 
prayer  that  you  may  yet  meet  and  love  them  in  heaven. 

One  farther  observation  and  I  have  done.  The 
season  which  brings  joy  and  gladness  to  us,  brings 
suffering  to  many  of  our  brethren.  The  poor,  alas  ! 
will  too  certainly  be  subjected  to  inclemency  and  hard- 
ship, while  we  are  giving  way  to  mirth  and  gaiety.    Yet 


The  Nativity  of  Christ.  59 

you  know,  that  he  whose  birth  you  now  commemorate, 
although  born  a  king,  came  not  with  the  distinctions 
of  rank  and  fortune  :  they  who  went  to  seek  for  him 
found  him  not  surrounded  w  ith  the  splendours  of  roy- 
alty :  they  entered  into  a  cottage,  and  found  only  a  so- 
litary woman  and  her  child.  Go,  then,  my  brethren, 
but  go  not  to  the  house  of  feasting  alone  ;  enter  like- 
wise the  dwellings  of  the  poor,  and  seek  there  for  "  the 
young  child^  and  Mary  his  mother.''^  Bring  forth  there 
your  gifts,  and  remember  to  your  comfort,  tliat  inas- 
much "  as  ye  do  good  to  one  of  the  least  of  these  his 
brethren^  ye  have  done  it  unto  him.''"' 


SERMON  VIII. 

ON  MAN  AS  A  RATIONAL  AND  MORAL  BEING. 


JOB,  xxxii.  8, 


^'  But  there  is  a  spirit  in  man^  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty  giveth  them  understanding.'''* 

WHILE  it  is  the  object  of  some  philosophical 
systems  to  degrade  man  nearly  to  a  level  with  the  brutes, 
the  sacred  writings  always  represent  him  as  "  little 
lower  than  the  angels.'*''     They  affirm,  indeed,  that  he 
has  lost  the  original  purity  of  his  nature ;  that  he  is 
corrupt  and  fallen;  but  this  melancholy  truth  they  never 
enforce  with  malignant  triumph,  nor  make  it  the  subject 
of  indecent  raillery.     On  the  contrary,  while  they  in- 
form him  plainly  of  the  misfortune  attending  his  condi- 
tion, and  of  the  incalculable  evils  of  which  it  may  be  the 
cause,  they  console  him  with  the  account  of  those  great 
exertions  which  divine  mercy  has  made  in  his  behalf, 
and  endeavour  to  make  him  keep  pace  with  those  exer- 
tions, by  elevating  his  mind  to  a  sense  of  what  he  was, 
and  by  bringing  before  him  all  those  traces  of  grandeur 
and  excellence  in  his  nature  which  still,  however  faintly, 
shadow  out  the  image  of  God.     "  IVhen  I  considen 
(says  David)  the  heavensy  the  work  of  thy  fingers^  the 


On  Man  as  a  Rational  and  Moral  Being,  61 

fnoon  and  the  stars^  xvhicli  thou  hast  ordained^  what  is 
man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him^  and  tlie  son  of  man 
that  thou  visitest  htm  ?  For  thou  hast  made  him  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast  crowned  him  with  glory 
and  honour.  Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion  over  the 
works  of  thy  hands  ;  thou  hast  put  all  things  under  his 
feet.'' 

In  discoursing  from  the  text,  I  propose,  first,  to  as- 
sert the  inherent  worthiness  of  our  nature  ;  and  second- 
ly, to  draw  practical  inferences  from  the  doctrine. 

Under  the  first  head  I  shall  consider  man  in  three 
views  :  as  a  rational,  a  moral,  and  a  religious  being. 

*'  There  is  a  spirit  in  man^  and  the  inspiratioji  of  the 
Almighty  giveth  him    widerstanding.''''     How  are  we 
otherwise  to  account  for  that  superiority  which  man  has 
acquired  over  all  the  other  inhabitants  of  this  world  ? 
Inferior  in  strength  to  many,  passing  a  long  period  of 
weakness  and  infancy,  how  has  this  being  been  enabled 
to  protect  himself  from  the  ferocity  of  the  lion  and  the 
tiger?  and  why  are  these  animals  fugitives  in  the  woods, 
while  he  is  the  lord  of  the  earth  ?     What  reason  can 
we  give  but  this,  that  while  the  animals  follow  merel\ 
the  impulses  of  appetite,  and  walk  in  the  unvarying  road 
of  blind  instinct,  the  mind  of  man  rushes  into  futurity, 
and  forms   innumerable  devices  for  accomplishing  its 
deliberate  designs ;  that,  long  before  the  occasion  comes, 
it  has  foreseen  the  plan  of  conduct,  and  has  supplied, 
by  artificial  assistances,  the  defects  of  natural  strength. 
Thus,  in  the  lowest  conditions  of  human  society,  there 
is  always  a  marked  pre-eminence  in  man  over  the  other 
.^nimals}  in  him  there  arc  at  all  times,  however  they- 
may  occasionally  be  clouded  mid  obscured,  indications 


62  On  Man  as  a  National 

of  invention  and  design  ;  of  a  mind  possessing  in  sonie 
degree  a  creative  energy,  and  so  far  resembling  that 
supreme  Intelligence  which  devised  the  immense  as- 
semblage of  existences  that  compose  this  prodigious 
universe. 

The  effects  of  this  power  in  man  are  by  no  means 
small  and  insignificant.  Even  in  the  savage  state  he 
builds  his  hut ;  he  subdues  the  beasts  of  the  forest, 
and  assembles  about  him  many  simple  conveniences. 
W  hile  he  is  yet  remote  from  what  we  call  civilization, 
the  native  grandeur  of  the  human  mind  shows  itself  in 
bold  exertions  of  genius  ;  and,  as  he  proceeds  in  his  ca- 
reer, man  constantly  discovers  new  resources.  Into 
whatever  situation  he  is  brought,  he  brings  along  with 
him  a  mind  equal  to  it ;  and  "the  same  creature  that,  on 
his  first  appearance,  seemed  but  ill  qualified  to  contend 
with  the  other  animals  for  a  precarious  subsistence  in 
the  woods,  is  afterwards  seen  to  sit  in  the  palaces  of 
kings;  to  guide  his  adventurous  prow  across  the  ocean  ; 
to  make  the  earth  render  him  the  yearly  return  of  his 
labour ;  to  form  enlightened  plans  of  policy  ;  to  regulate 
the  deliberations  of  senates  ;  to  count  the  number  of  the 
stars ;  and  to  reflect  on  the  workings  of  his  own  mind. 

Now,  what  is  this  power,  the  effects  of  which  are  at 
all  times  so  much  superior  to  the  operations  of  other  ani- 
mated  beings,  and  which,  in  the  course  of  ages,  seems 
to  separate  man  from  the  brutes  almost  as  far  as  from 
the  trees  or  from  the  rocks  ?  Is  it  a  principle  not  dif- 
fering in  kind  from  their  regular  and  constant  instincts, 
although  at  last  it  produces  these  effects  by  some  strange 
concurrence  of  accidents  ?    Or  is  it  not  rather,  what  the. 


and  Moral  Being.  63 

text  declares  it  to  be,  '*  a  spirit  in  man,  the  inspiration 
of  the  Almighty?^'' 

Going  on  the  principles  of  natural  reason, — what,  in- 
deed, is  it  that  produces  in  our  minds  a  belief  of  the  ex- 
istence of  the  supreme  God,  but  the  perception  that  the 
world  which  we  inhabit  bears  strong  indications  of  de- 
sign and  intelligence  having  been  employed  in  its  for- 
mation? It  is  because  we  perceive,  in  this  beautiful 
world,  some  resemblance  to  the  works  of  our  own  hands, 
that  we  conclude  it  to  be  the  contrivance  of  a  Being  in 
some  respects  like  to  ourselves.  Our  connection  with 
God  is  impressed  on  our  minds  by  the  very  proofs  which 
bring  us  a  knowledge  of  his  existence ;  and  we  could 
not  know  that  there  was  such  a  Being,  unless  we  tried 
his  works  by  the  scale  of  our  own  reason. 

Examine,  on  the  contrary,  what  our  feelings  are  when 
we  look  to  the  operations  of  the  lower  animals.  In  their 
instincts  we  perceive,  no  doubt,  much  curious  contri- 
vance ;  but  it  occurs  to  us  at  once,  that  the  contrivance 
is  not  their  own  ;  that  it  proceeds  without  design  on 
their  part ;  and  that,  in  fact,  they  are  but  a  sort  of  ma- 
chines  in  the  hands  of  a  superior  power.  We  immedi 
ately,  therefore,  perceive  that  there  is  a  part  of  our  na- 
ture in  which  we  bear  no  relation  to  them  ;  and  in  fol- 
lowing out  the  proofs  of  the  existence  of  God,  we  see 
that  there  is  a  part  in  his  nature  in  which  he  must  be  re- 
lated to  us.  That  part  is  reason  and  intelligence.  To 
this  principle  we  necessarily  ascribe  all  the  artifice  and 
contrivance  discernible  in  the  order  of  the  universe ; 
and  we  are  conscious  that  this  is  a  principle  which  wc 
ourselves  exert  in  our  most  important  actions.  Thus, 
from  the  consideration  of  his  rational  powers,  man  dis- 


64  0?!  Man  as  a  Rational 

covers  one  of  the  ties  which  bind  him  to  the  Father  of 
nature  ;  one  of  the  analogies  which  he  bears  to  the  most 
exalted  of  all  Beings ;  one  strong  lineament  of  that 
divine  image  after  which  he  was  originally  formed. 

The  same  great  truth  will  appear  in  a  still  more  strik- 
ing light,  if  we  proceed  to  consider  man,  farther,  as  a 
moral  being. 

While  the  other  animals  follow  blindly  the  impulse  of 
appetite,  without  discerning  the  tendency  of  their  ac- 
tions, there  is  impressed  on  the  mind  of  man  a  rule  by 
which  he  judges  himself, — a  sense  of  right  and  wrong 
in  conduct,  by  which  he  becomes  conscious  that  he  is 
the  object  either  of  love  and  esteem,  or  of  contempt  and 
hatred.  While  he  attends  to  this  monitor  within,  he  is 
strongly  incited  to  take  the  good  and  honourable  part, 
and  to  spurn  at  every  thing  which  is  unjust,  despicable, 
and  shameful.  Whenever  this  ruling  principle  of  his 
actions  obtains  a  due  force  in  his  mind,  man  at  times 
displays  the  most  estimable  qualities,  and  is  evidently  a 
being  to  be  in  a  high  degree  respected  and  loved.  What- 
ever may  be  the  real  case  of  the  world  in  general,  yet 
the  many  examples  with  which  history,  or  our  own  ob- 
servation may  supply  us,  of  men  truly  and  greatly  vir- 
tuous, show  clearly  what  human  nature  is  capable  of; 
what  admirable  fruits  it  may  bear  ;  how  many  traces, 
in  its  moral  capacity,  it  may  exhibit  of  the  workmanship 
of  the  divine  hand.  And  these  traces  are  not  confined 
to  any  particular  ages  and  countries  ;  but  at  all  times, 
and  in  every  region,  under  all  forms  of  religion  and  go- 
vernment, in  sava.o-e  and  in  civilized  societv,  the  native 
goodness  of  the  human  heart  has  had  many  opportuni- 
ties  of  displaying  itself. 


and  Moral  Being.  65 

Now,  my  brethren,  let  us  reflect  on  tlie  very  high 
dignity  and  importance  of  this  part  of  our  constitution  ; 
how  much  it  elevates  us  above  the  other  creatures  ; 
how  close  a  connection  it  forms  between  us  and  the 
Almighty  !  Do  not  our  natural  feelings  assure  us,  that 
those  qualities  which  are  the  objects  of  esteem,  of  love, 
of  reverence,  are  by  far  the  highest  and  most  dignified 
qualities  which  any  being  can  possess,  and  that,  with^ 
out  these,  all  other  qualifications  are  absolutely  trivial 
and  insignificant?  The  moral  attributes,  therefore,  are 
in  fact  those  alone  which  command  our  real  veneration 
in  the  divine  nature  itself;  for  whatever  might  be  the 
intelligence  or  the  power  of  the  Deity,  unless  he  were 
also  good,  \\-Q  might,  indeed,  regard  him  with  fear  or 
wonder,  but  it  is  evident  we  could  not  reverence  or 
adore  him.  Reason  and  intelligence,  accordingly,  how- 
ever lofty  and  sublime  a  thing  it  may  be,  is  yet  truly  ad- 
mirable and  valuable  only  when  it  acts  in  subservience 
to  moral  goodness  ;  and  a  being  who  is  capable  of  moral 
goodness,  who  has  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong  impressed 
on  his  mind,  evidently  possesses,  or  at  least  is  able  to 
acquire,  the  highest  and  most  excellent  of  all  possible 
qualifications. 

What,  then,  can  this  part  of  our  nature  be,  other  than 
"  a  spirit  in  many  the  inspiration  oj' the  yilmighty  ?^^ 
How  are  we  here  exalted  above  all  the  other  creatures 
around  us,  and  what  kind  of  philosophy  is  that  which 
would  pretend  to  account  for  our  moral  feelings  from 
any  thing  which  we  possess  in  common  with  them? 
How  can  we  derive,  except  from  God  himself,  except 
from  the  spirit  which  he  has  breathed  into  man,  any 

I 


66  On  Man  as  a  Rational 

feeling  oi  those  excellencies,  any  love  for,  or  any  abpira- 
tion  after  that  goodness  which  indibputably  constitutes 
his  own  greatest  attribute  ?  Is  not  our  relationship  to 
the  divine  nature  apparent  in  this,  that  we  alone,  of  all 
the  creatures  breathing  upon  the  earth,  are  capable  of 
having  any  relish  of  those  perfections  which  alone  ren- 
der God  himself  the  object  of  worship  and  love  ? 

I  should  now  proceed  to  consider  man  as  a  religi- 
ous being ;  but  this  branch  of  the  subject,  and  the  prac- 
tical inferences  to  be  drawn  from  the  whole  doctrine,  I 
must  defer  till  a  future  occasion.  I  shall  only  remark 
farther  at  present,  that  inquiries  such  as  those  in  which 
we  have  been  engaged,  are  by  no  means  inconsistent 
with  the  business  of  this  place  r  nor  are  the  reflections 
in  which  we  have  indulged  in  any  respect  contrary  to 
the  peculiar  doctrisies  of  the  Ciiristian  faith.  Although 
it  is  the  great  object  of  our  religion  to  represent  man  as 
fallen,  and  as  requiring  his  nature  to  be  renewed,  yet 
this  supposes  human  nature  to  be  originally  good,  and 
worthy  of  the  divine  care  and  protection.  It  supposes 
the  vitiation  not  to  be  incurable  ;  and,  therefore,  it  is 
highly  reasonable,  and  of  important  service  to  religion, 
to  consider  what  our  nature  is  in  itself,  independently  of 
the  accidental  corruption  into  which  it  is  fallen.  It  is 
surely  delightful  to  turn  our  eyes  from  the  actual  vice 
and  folly  prevalent  in  the  world,  and  to  discover  in  the 
mind  of  man  those  fountains  of  wisdom  and  goodness 
which  were  originally  placed  there  by  his  Maker,  and 
which  still  remain,  however  the  waters  which  have 
flowed  from  them  !T.ay  have  been  stained  and  poisoned. 
As  St.  Paul,   speaking  with  triumphant  exultation  of 


and  Moral  Behig.  67 

his  npostolic  mission  says,  ''  I  magnify  my  office^''''  so, 
1  believe,  it  is  the  part  of  a  good  man  to  magiiify  his  na- 
ture ;  and  the  higher  estimation  he  ibrms  of  that,  the 
more  will  he  rec^ret  all  those  faihires  in  his  own  con- 
duct, v.hich  bring  disgrace  on  a  work  at  first  so  admira. 
biy  framed. 


SERMON  IX. 

ox  MAN  AS  A  RELIGIOUS  BEING, 


JOB,  xxxii.  8. 


^'  But  there  is  a  spirit  in  man^  and  the  impiratio?i  of  the 
Almighty  giveth  them  understanding.^'' 

IN  discoursing  on  a  former  occasion  from  these 
^votds,  I  called  your  attention  to  two  striking  views  of 
human  nature,  and  contemplated  the  dignity  of  man  as 
a  rational  and  moral  being.  As  possessed  of  reason, 
he  claims  a  decided  superiority  over  all  the  other  in- 
habitants of  this  globe,  and  carries  about  with  him  a 
principle  which  bears  an  affinity  to  that  supreme  Intel- 
ligence from  which  the  universe  itself  proceeded.  As 
endowed  with  moral  perception  and  sentiment,  he  is 
capable  of  acquiring  qualities  the  most  estimable  and 
amiable ;  and  exhibits  traces  of  that  goodness  which, 
in  its  perfect  form,  we  ascribe  to  God  as  his  most 
glorious  attribute.  In  each  of  these  aspects,  therefore, 
we  discover  the  connection  between  m.an  and  his  Crea- 
tor, and  are  prepared  to  say,  with  Moses,  that  "  God 
made  man  after  his  own  itnage.^^ 

There  is  still  another  feature  of  our  nature,  my  bre- 
thren, in  which  this  lofty  relationship  is  still  more  strong- 
ly expressed.     The  connection  not  ciily  exists  ;  but  it 


Oil  Man  as  a  Religious  Being.  69 

is  felt :  man  has  not  only  received  understanding  from 
the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty,  but  he  knows  that  it  is 
so;  and  he  is  prompted  by  nature  to  lift  up  his  thoughts 
to  the  contemplation  of  that  great  Being  who  conferred 
upon  him  so  high  a  pre-eminence.  It  is  here  that  we 
lind  in  the  mind  of  man  something  inexpressibly  sub- 
lime, something  that  elevates  him  far  above  all  that  is 
little  and  perishing  upon  earth,  and  connects  him  by  the 
ties  of  the  heart  with  the  eternal  Ruler  of  the  heavens. 

This  principle  it  is  which  distinguishes  us  from  the 
lower  animals,  even  more  than  our  reason  or  our  moral 
perceptions.  In  their  operations,  something  like  reason 
may  perhaps  at  times  be  found ;  and  if  not  moral  feel- 
ing, yet  kind  aficction  ;  but  religion  is  the  grand  pre- 
rogative  of  man.  He  alone,  of  all  the  creatures  which 
inhabit  the  earth,  lifts  his  eye  to  heaven  ;  and  while  he 
deigns  not  to  hold  any  intercourse  with  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  he  yet  thinks  it  not  presumption  to  address 
himself  to  the  unknown  God.  Wherever  man  exists, 
there,  too,  you  will  find  religion.  You  will  find  states 
of  society  in  tlie  lowest  and  most  abject  condition,  as 
far  as  mental  improvement,  or  the  comforts  of  life  are 
concerned  ;  but  where  will  you  not  find  the  worshipper 
and  the  temple  ? 

In  vain  have  some  sceptical  reasoners  endeavoured  to 
throw  a  cloud  over  this  beautiful  fact,  bv  collectiii<>:  into 
one  view  all  the  follies  of  superstition ;  and  thus  at- 
tempting to  show  that  the  religion  of  man  is  rather  a 
proof  of  the  weakness  than  of  the  loftiness  of  his  nature. 
The  extravagancies  of  superstition  are  indeed  a  perplex- 
ing scene ;  and  it  must  be  owned,  that  the  vices  and 
follies  of  man  have  shown  themselves  as  frequently  in 


70  On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being, 

the  midst  of  his  religions  sentiments  as  in  any  other 
part  of  his  character.  Yet  the  perversions  of  religion 
ought  never  to  be  treated  in  a  light  and  careless  strain ; 
they  are  rather  objects  of  pity  :  or,  if  any  thing  like 
scorn  should  be  applied  to  them,  it  ought  to  be  mingled 
with  that  deep  indignation  and  regret,  with  which  the 
strong  colouring  of  the  prophet  Isaiah  exposes  the  ido- 
latry of  the  nations. 

"  They  that  make  a  graven  image  (says  he)  are  all 
of  them  vanity^  and  their  delectable  things  shall  not  pro- 
Jit,  and  they  are  their  own  witnesses;  they  see  not,  nor 
know,  that  they  may  he  ashamed-  Who  hath  formed  a 
God,  or  molten  a  graven  image  that  is  profitable  for  no- 
thing? Behold  all  his  fellows  shall  be  ashamed :  and  the 
workmen  they  are  of  men :  let  them  all  be  gathered  to- 
gether,  let  them  stand  up:  yet  they  shall  fear,  and  they 
shall  be  ashamed  together.  The  smith  with  the  tongs, 
both  worketh  in  the  coals,  and  fashioneth  it  with  ham- 
mers,  and  worketh  it  with  the  strength  of  his  arms  ;  yea^ 
he  is  hungry,  and  his  strength  faileth;  lie  drink eth  no 
water,  and  is  faint.  The  carpenter  stretcheth  out  his 
rule,  he  marketh  it  out  with  a  line,  he  fitteth  it  with 
planes,  ufid  he  marketJi  it  out  with  a  compass,  and 
maketh  it  after  the  figure  of  a  man,  according  to 
the  beauty  of  a  7nan,  that  it  may  remain  in  the  house. 
He  heweth  him  down  cedars,  and  taketh  the  cypress 
and  the  oak,  which  he  strengtheneth  for  himself 
among  the  trees  of  the  forest ;  he  plantcth  an  ash,  and 
the  rain  doth  nourish  it.  Then  shall  it  be  for  a  man  to 
hum ;  for  he  will  take  thereof  and  warm  himself;  yea, 
he  kindletli  it  and  baketh  bread ;  yea^  he  maketh  a  god 
and  worshippetJi  it,  he  maketh  it  a  graven  image,  and 


On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being.  71 

falleth  down  thereto.    He  burnetii  part  thereof  in  the 

Jire ;  with  part  thereof  he  eateth  fesh ;  he  roasteth 
roast  and  is  satisfied;  yea,  he  warmeth  himself  and  saith, 
Aha.  I  am  warm,  I  have  seen  the  fire.  And  the  residue 
thereof  he  maketh  a  god,   even  his  graven  image :  he 

falleth  down  unto  it,  and  xvorshippeth  it.  and  pray eth 
unto  it,  and  saith.  Deliver  me.  for  tJwu  art  my  god. 
They  have  not  known  nor  understood,  for  he  hath  shut 
their  eyes  that  they  cannot  see,  and  their  hearts  that 
they  cannot  understand.  And  none  considereth  in  his 
heart,  neither  is  there  knowledge  nor  understanding  to 
say,  T  have  burnt  part  of  it  in  the  fire;  yea,  also,  I  have 
baked  bread  upon  the  coals  thereof:  I  have  roasted  fiesh 
and  eaten  it,  and  shall  I  make  the  residue  tliereof  an 
abomination  ?  shall  I  fall  down  to  the  stock  of  a  tree  ? 
He  feedetli  of  ashes  :  a  deceived  heart  hath  turned  him 
aside,  that  he  cannot  deliver  his  soul,  nor  say,  Is  there 
not  a  lie  in  my  right  hand?'''*  Is.  Chap.  xliv. 

No  doubt,  my  brethrtn,  however  degrading  it  may 
be,  this  is  but  too  true  a  picture;  and  man,  unenlighteu- 

■  cd  by  revelation,  instead  of  discovering  "  the  invisible 
things  of  God,  which,  from  the  creation  of  the  world^ 
are  clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are 

_  made,'''*  man  has  at  all  times  "  changed  the  glory  of  the 
uncorruptible  God  into  an  image  made  like  to  corruptible 
man,  and  to  birds,  and  four-footed  beasts,  and  creeping 
things.'*''  Yet,  whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  this  error, 
whether  his  ignorance  may  partly  excuse  it,  or  the  cor- 

'ruption  of  his  nature  may  necessarily  infuse  into  all  his 
conceptions  of  the  Deity  something  that  is  debasing, 
and  trivial,  and  low  ; — however  we  are  to  account  for 
such  superstitious  delusions,  still  it  is  plain  that  man  must 


72  On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being. 

find  a  God ;  and  if  a  "  deceived  heart  hath  turned  him 
aside  that  he  cannot  deliver  his  soul,  nor  say.  Is  there  not 
a  lie  in  my  right  hand?^^  he  will  yet  rather  fall  down  to 
the  stock  of  a  tree,  than  want  an  opportunity  of  giving 
scope  to  the  religious  sentiments  of  his  nature. 

In  fiict,  therefore,  the  histories  of  human  superstition, 
although  they  contain  many  indications  of  the  inability 
of  man  to  work  out  for  himself  any  regular  and  consist- 
ent  scheme  of  religion,  without  assistance  from  above, 
yet  prove  more  strongly  than  even  the  best  constructed 
systems  of  natural  religion,  that  he  is  by  nature  a  re- 
ligious being ;  that,  in  the  lowest  and  most  degraded 
condition  of  savage  life,  he  yet  hears  a  voice  which  calls 
him  to  worship  and  adore ;  and  where  is  the  wonder  if, 
in  the  perplexity  of  his  thoughts,  he  should  rather  be- 
lieve that  the  object  of  his  devotion  was  to  be  found  in 
the  wind,  in  the  earthquake,  or  in  the  fire,  than  in  the 
"  still  small  voice'' ^  which  speaks  from  the  majestic  har- 
mony of  nature  ?  Were  religion  only  to  be  found  as  it 
is  discovered  by  reason,  there  might  be  some  pretext 
for  saying  that  it  is  a  beautiful  invention  of  philosophers ; 
but  when  we  discover  it  in  every  shape ;  operating  in 
some  measure  wherever  human  beings  exist;  twisted,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  cords  of  their  hearts ;  what  can  we 
conclude,  but  that  it  was  originally  intervv'oven  with 
these  by  him  who  formed  them  ? 

Here,  then,  likewise,  my  brethren,  we  perceive  "  the 
spirit  in  man^  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty :''''  a  spirit, 
indeed,  clouded  and  obscured,  struggling  with  dark- 
ness, and  fettered  by  sin,  yet  aiming  at  lofty  things, 
and  striving  to  regain  some  glimpses  of  that  divine 


On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being,  73 

form,  which  was  accustomed  to  walk  Avitli  man  while 
3'^et  in  the  garden  of  primaeval  innocence  *. 

*  These  observations  were  suggested  to  me  by  the  following  pro- 
found and  eloquent  passage  in  Mr.  Stewart's  "  Elements  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,"  for  the  length  of  wliich  I  need 
make  no  apology.  After  quoting  some  passages  from  Mr.  Hume, 
Mr,  Stewart  proceeds  as  follows  :  "  What  is  the  infei'ence  to  which 
we  are  led  by  tiiese  observations  ?  Is  it  (to  use  the  words  of  this 
ingenious  writer)  tliat  the  wliole  is  a  riddle,  an  enigma,  an  inex- 
plicable mystery,  and  that  doubt,  uncertainly,  and  suspense,  appear 
the  only  result  of  our  most  accurate  scrutiny  concerning  this  sub- 
ject? Or  should  not  rather  the  melancholy  histories  which  he  has 
exhibited  of  the  follies  and  caprices  of  superstition,  direct  our  atten- 
tion to  those  sacred  and  indelible  characters  on  the  human  mind, 
which  all  these  perversions  of  reason  are  unable  to  obliterate ;  like 
that  image  of  himself,  which  Phidias  wished  to  perpetuate,  by 
stamping  it  so  deeply  on  the  buckler  of  his  Minerva,  "  ut  nemo 
delcre  possit  aut  divellere  qui  lotam  statuam  non  imminueret."  In 
truth,  the  more  striking  the  contradictions,  and  the  more  ludicrous 
the  ceremonies  to  which  the  pride  of  human  reason  has  thus  been 
reconciled,  the  stronger  is  our  evidence  that  religion  has  a  founda- 
tion in  the  nature  of  man.  When  the  greatest  of  modern  philoso- 
phers* declares,  that  "  he  would  rather  believe  all  the  fables  in  the 
Legend,  and  the  Talmud,  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that  this  universal 
frame  is  without  mind  ;"  he  has  expressed  the  same  feeling  which 
in  all  ages  and  nations  has  led  good  men,  unaccustomed  to  reason- 
ing, to  an  implicit  faith  in  the  creed  of  their  infancy  ;  a  feeling 
which  affords  an  evidence  of  the  existence  of  the  Deity,  incompara- 
bly more  striking  than  if,  unmixed  with  error,  and  undeljased  with 
superstition,  this  most  important  of  all  principles  had  commanded 
the  universal  assent  of  mankind.  Where  are  the  other  truths,  in 
the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences,  which  are  so  essential  to  human 
iiappincss  as  to  procure  an  easy  access,  not  only  for  themselves,  but 

*  Lord  Bacon,  in  his  Essays. 
K 


74  On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being. 

Upon  this  subject  I  will  only  remark  farther,  that,  as 
a  religious  being,  man  assumes  a  character  of  import- 
ance to  which  no  bounds  can  be  placed.  When  his 
thoughts  rise  to  the  contemplation  of  God,  he  is  like- 
wise led  to  anticipate  that  continuance  of  existence 
in  himself  which  he  necessarily  ascribes  to  the  Deity. 
Reason  might  be  doomed  to  perish ;  virtue  itself  might 
be  lost  for  ever  in  the  dust ;  but  faith  looks  beyond 
mortality,  and  beholds  scenes  of  grandeur  and  glory 
opening  before  its  eye,  which  have  no  termination,  and 
are  darkened  by  no  cloud.  I  am  sensible,  my  brethren, 
that  I  cannot  do  justice  to  this  lofty  feature  in  man,  this 
part  of  his  nature  which  indeed  "  covers  him  with  glory 
and  honour.''^     I  leave  it,  therefore,  to  your  own  medi- 


for  whatever  opinions  may  happen  to  be  blended  with  them  r 
Where  are  the  truths  so  venerable  and  commanding,  as  to  impart 
their  own  subHmity  to  every  trifling  memorial  which  recals  them  to 
our  remembrance ;  to  bestow  solemnity  and  elevation  on  every  mode 
of  expression  by  which  tiiey  are  conveyed;  and  which,  in  whatever 
scene  they  have  habitually  occupied  the  thoughts,  consecrate  every 
object  which  it  presents  to  our  senses,  and  the  very  ground  we  have 
been  accustomed  to  tread?  To  attempt  to  weaken  the  authority  of 
such  impressions,  by  a  detail  of  the  endless  variety  of  forms  which 
they  derive  from  casual  associations,  is  surely  an  employment  un- 
suitable to  the  dignity  of  philosophy.  To  the  vulgar  it  may  be 
amusing  in  this,  as  in  other  instances,  to  indulge  their  wonder  at 
what  is  new  or  uncommon;  but  to  the  philosopher  it  belongs  to  per- 
ceive, under  all  these  various  disguises,  the  workings  of  the  same 
common  nature  ;  and  in  the  superstitions  of  Egypt,  no  less  than  in 
the  lofty  visions  of  Tlato,  to  recognise  the  existence  of  those  moral 
ties  which  unite  the  heart  of  man  to  the  Author  of  his  being." — 
Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind. — Second  Ed.  p. 
368 — 370. 


On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being.  75 

tationa,  and  shall  close  the  whole  subject  of  discourse 
with  some  reflections  of  a  practical  tendency. 

First,  then,  I  address  myself  to  due  young,  to  those 
who,  in  this  seat  of  liberal  education,  have  perhaps  been 
lately  engaged  with  inquiries  and  studies  which  have 
enlarged  the  capacity  of  dicir  minds,  and  opened  an  un- 
limited range  to  the  natural  freedom  of  their  thoughts. 
To  their  ardent  eyes  have  been  unveiled  the  secret 
laws  of  an  orderly  universe  ;  and  they  have  beheld,  with 
equal  admiration,  the  magnificent  fabric  of  the  human 
mind.  From  such  studies,  conducted  as  they  hitherto 
have  been,  they  must  have  arisen  with  no  mean  impres- 
sions of  the  dignity  of  that  intellectual  nature  which 
could  thus  be  employed  ;  and  their  own  experience  must 
have  told  them,  that  there  are  speculations  which  the  hu- 
man understanding  can  reach,  and  which  yet  seem 
adapted  to  a  being  but  "  a  little  lower  than  the  angels.'^'' 
Let  them,  therefore,  retain  these  exalted  feelings,  and 
conduct  all  their  future  inquiries  with  a  becoming  reve- 
rence for  the  nature  to  which  they  belong.  The  advice 
is  not  unseasonable  ;  for  I  Ijelieve  it  will  be  discovered, 
that  all  those  monstrous  perversions  of  opinion  wid\ 
which  the  present  times  abound,  may  be  traced  to  the 
vanity  of  individuals,  who,  forgetting  their  real  dignity 
as  men,  have  sought  for  a  despicable  celebrity,  by  start- 
ing out  from  their  species,  and  aftecting  some  sort  of 
private  and  incommunicable  perfection  of  intelligence. 
From  this  source,  especially,  has  flowed  that  torrent  of 
declamation  and  folly  which  has  been  poured  out  on  the 
subject  of  religious  belief,  a  subject  with  resi>ec^to  ■ 
which  it  is  certainly  the  duty  of  those  who  have  oppoi-- 
tunity  to  ^^  prove  all  things  ;^''  but  it  is  still  more  their 


76  On  Man  as  a  Religious  Being. 

duty,  to  "  holdfast  that  which  is  good,^^  In  such  in- 
quiries the  young  naturally  attach  themselves  to  those 
in  whose  wisdom  they  can  confide  ;  and  it  has  unfortu- 
nately happened,  that  the  champions  of  infidelity  in  our 
age  have  had  something  specious  and  liberal  in  their 
manner : 

But  all  is  false  and  hollow,  tho'  their  tongues 
Drop  manna,  and  can  make  the  worse  appear 
The  better  reason for  their  thoughts  are  low- 
In  tlic  second  place,  the  contemplation  of  the  high 
rank  which  man  holds  in  the  scale  of  beings,  ought  to 
make  us  all  more  deeply  sensible  of  the  value  and  im- 
})ortance  of  Christianity,  which  has  brought  immorta- 
lity to  light,  and  has  made  all  the  future  prospects  of  the 
liuman  race  correspond  with  whatever  is  great  in  their 
their  present  condition. 

There  is  a  voice  in  every  breast  which  assures  us, 
that  we  are  formed  ;;fter  no  mean  model ;  that  man  does 
not  occupy  a  common  place  in  the  theatre  of  nature  ; 
and  that  there  is  a  spirit  in  him  superior  to  that  of  the 
beasts  which  perish.  Corresponding  to  this  natural  im- 
pression, the  revelation  of  Christ  informs  us  of  lofty 
things.  It  tells  us  that  the  only  Son  of  God  took  upon 
him  the  nature,  not  of  angels,  but  of  man  ;  and  that, 
after  having  lived  and  died  for  the  good  of  his  brethren 
of  mankind,  he  opened  up  to  them  the  gates  of  immor- 
tality. These,  my  brethren,  are  great  discoveries  ;  yet 
they  are  discoveries  which  we  are  prepared  by  nature  to 
receive.  They  are  discoveries  of  boundless  beneficence 
in  God  ;  yet  of  a  beneficence  which  man  has  at  all  times 
experienced,  and  which,  in  these  revelations,  has  only 


On  Ma?i  as  a  Religious  Being,  77 

completed  a  work  which  would  otherwise  have  appeared 
imperfect.  Be  it  our  part,  therefore,  to  embrace,  with 
thankful  and  believing  hearts,  those  glad  tidings  of 
salvation  ;  and,  fixing  our  eyes  on  "  the  author  mid 
finisher  of  our  faith,''^  to  behold  exemplified  in  him  the 
real  greatness  and  dignity  of  man. 

Finally,  let  us  remember,  that  although  man  is  made 
"  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels ^''^  he  may  yet  fall  into 
the  lowest  degradation  ;  and  v\  hether  we  look  around 
us,  or  into  our  own  hearts,  let  us  be  aware  that  we  shall 
too  often  see  and  feel  corruptions  which  are  unworthy 
of  the  nature  which  we  have  received.  One  thing,  and 
one  alone,  can  reduce,  and  has  reduced  this  lofty  nature 
to  the  basest  condition  : — Not  poverty,  not  disease,  not 
death, — but  sin.  If,  then,  we  would  in  any  degree  se- 
cure the  honours  of  our  being,  there  is  one  exertion  in 
which  we  ought  strenuously  to  labour, — the  exertion  of 
virtue.  This  is  our  true  occupation,  that  v.hich  of  all 
others  is  suited  to  a  being  whose  spirit  is  the  inspiration 
of  the  Almighty.  "  Whatsoever  things^  therefore^  arc 
true^  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  rvhatscever  things 
are  just ^  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  wliatsoever  things 
are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report ;  if  there 
be  any  virtue^  and  if  there  be  airy  praise,  think  on  these 
things — those  things  xvhich  ye  have  both  learned  and  re- 
ceived,  and  heard  and  seen,  do,  and  the  God  cf  peace 
shall  be  with  you.'*'' 


SERMON  X. 

PROOFS  OF  IMMORTALITY  FROM  REASON. 


II  TIM.  i.  10. 


^'  ^nd  hath  brought  life  and  immortaiiti/  to  light  through 
the  gospeU^ 

FROM  these  words  it  is  not  meant  to  be  inferred, 
that,  independently  of  the  gospel,  men  have  no  intima- 
tions of  a  future  state,  but  only  that  these  intimations 
are  dark  and  obscure,  and  that  our  Saviour  brought  this 
important  truth  into  full  light  and  certainty.  On  a  point 
of  so  much  consequence,  it  is  useful  to  collect  proofs 
from  every  quarter,  from  natural  reason  as  well  as  from 
revelation;  and,  indeed,  it  is  only  by  comparing  together 
those  different  sources  of  information,  that  we  can  justly 
appreciate  the  value  of  that  knowledge  with  which  Chris- 
tianity  has  supplied  us. 

Let  us  then  begin  with  the  light  of  nature,  and  see 
how  far  it  will  lead  us  to  the  sublime  conclusion,  that 
we  are  immortal  beings ;  that  this  life  is  but  the  pas- 
sage to  another ;  and  that  the  grave,  with  all  its  horrors, 
is  the  gate  which  opens  on  an  eternal  world. 

Consider,  first,  the  universality  of  this  belief;  that,  in 
some  shape  or  other,  it  is  to  be  found  among  all  na- 


Proofs  of  Immortality^  ^c.  79 

tions  ;  that  men  have  ahvays  looked  beyond  the  tomb, 
and  have  never  been  able  to  reconcile  themselves  to  the 
notion,  that  death  was  the  eternal  termination  of  their 
existence.  Whence  this  belief  ?  How  should  so  pro- 
digious a  supposition  have  fastened  itself  so  closely  to 
the  mind  of  a  being  who  is  only  of  yesterday,  and  who 
to-morrow  may  be  laid  in  the  dust  ?  What  is  there  in 
this  span  of  life,  which  could  thus  lead  us  to  presume 
on  an  eternity  ?  From  a  scene  which  promises  so  little, 
whence  should  those  mighty  expectations  arise  ? 

In  vain  will  it  be  said,  that  man  is  at  all  times  chi- 
merical ;  that  his  imagination  is  ever  stretching  beyond 
the  real  state  of  his  condition  ;  that  he  hopes  and  fears 
he  knows  not  what ;  and  that  no  regular  conclusions  can 
be  drawn  from  the  extravagant  opinions  into  which  he 
runs.  Man,  no  doubt,  is  subject  to  many  illusions  of 
the  fancy,  and  perhaps  seldom  sees  any  truth  clearly 
and  as  it  is  ;  yet  it  is  a  maxim  of  the  wise,  that  no  opin- 
ion can  gain  a  steady  and  permanent  footing  in  the  hu- 
man mind,  which  has  not  some  foundation  in  reality, 
with  whatever  errors  it  may  happen  to  be  mixed.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  universal  belief  of  men  is  considered  to 
be  a  good  argument  in  proof  of  the  existence  of  God, 
although,  no  doubt,  the  most  extravagant  and  foolish  no- 
tions  have  in  all  ages  and  countries  connected  them- 
selves with  that  belief.  The  truth  is,  that  all  opinions 
which  refer  to  religion  point  at  something  so  far  above 
the  condition  of  man  in  this  world,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  conceive  how  his  attention  should  ever  have  been  at 
all  turned  to  such  speculations,  unless  it  were  from  the 
voice  of  nature  speaking  within  him.  How  should  a 
being  who  begins  in  weakness  and  childhood,  who  pass- 


80  Proofs,  of  Immortality 

es  liis  best  days  in  toil  and  anxiety,  and  who,  at  last, 
decays  in  old  age, — how  should  such  a  being  ever  lift 
his  thoughts  to  the  great  overruling  Intelligence,  whose 
unceasing  watchfulness  regulates  the  government  of 
worlds  ?  How  should  he  carry  his  presumption  so  far, 
as  to  believe  that  he  shall  participate  in  that  eternal  ex- 
istence which  he  ascribes  to  God  ?  The  human  imagi- 
nation is  indeed  extravagant ;  but  if  this  opinion  were 
not  founded  in  nature  and  truth,  it  would  be  such  a 
pitch  of  extravagance,  that  it  could  never  have  derived 
the  smallest  plausibility  from  the  most  beautiful  coloiir- 
ing  of  the  most  fanciful  poet.  How,  then,  should  there 
be  *'  no  speech  nor  language  where  its  voice  is  not 
heard  F^"* 

But,  secondly,  this  opinion,  that  the  soul  is  immortal, 
does  not  rest  merely  on  a  vague  and  unaccountable  be- 
lief; there  are  many  circumstances  which  strongly  con- 
firm it.  Man  perceives  that  he  has  faculties  greatly 
above  his  condition  here.  The  great  ends  of  human 
existence  in  this  world  might  be  answered  by  the  ope- 
ration of  those  instincts  which  belong  to  the  brutes. 
The  lower  animals  live,  continue  their  species,  taste  of 
the  enjoyments  which  life  aifords,  and  then  sink  quietly 
into  the  dust  from  which  they  were  taken.  Why  should 
man  have  the  faculty  of  reason,  if  this  part  of  his  nature 
is  destined  to  perish  ?  What  are  the  mightj'  operations 
in  which  that  faculty  is  employed  here,  that  could  not, 
in  many  instances,  be  performed  more  fully  by  the  in- 
stincts of  the  lower  animals  ?  They  all  know  the  me- 
thods of  acquiring  their  food,  of  forming  their  places  of 
shelter,  of  defending  themselves  from  their  enemies,  and 
every  thing  besides  that  is  requisite  for  their  well-being. 


from  Reason,  81 

Man  knows  none  of  those  things  from  nature,  l^t  is 
gifted  with  a  power  by  which  he  acquires  that  kno'.^  ledge 
for  himself.  Yet  he  feels  that  this  power  is  much  more 
important  in  itself  than  in  its  effects,  and  that  none  of 
the  uses  to  which  he  can  now  apply  it  are  adequate  to  its 
extent  and  capacity.  He  feels  that  he  is  in  possession 
of  a  faculty  to  whose  operations  his  fancy  can  set  no 
bounds,  which  is  adapted  for  every  part  of  the  universe 
equally  with  this  world  in  which  he  exists  at  present, 
and  which  he  cannot  conceive  doomed  to  perish,  as  long 
as  the  universe  itself  is  under  the  guidance  of  reason. 

But  the  principal  argument  which  has  at  all  times  led 
men  to  the  belief  of  a  future  state,  has  been  founded  on 
the  observation  of  the  imperfect  distribution  of  rewards 
and  punishments  in  this  life;  of  the  misfortunes  to  which 
the  good  are  subjected,  and  the  frequent  prosperity  of 
the  wicked.  No  one  who  believes  in  the  existence  of 
a  supreme  Governor  of  dpe  universe,  can  entertain  a 
doubt  that  virtue  is  agreeable,  and  that  vice  is  hateful  to 
him ;  that  he  loves  those  who  persevere  in  the  ways  of 
righteousness  ;  and  that  he  looks  with  abhorrence  on  the 
workers  of  iniquity.  It  is  therefore  reasonable  to  ex- 
pect, that  he  will  reward  the  one,  and  punish  the  other  ; 
that  the  riehteous  will  be  exalted  to  honour,  and  that  the 
wicked  will  be  brought  low  and  debased.  There  are, 
in  the  present  course  of  God's  providence,  many  intima- 
tions that  such  is  the  plan  of  his  proceedings  :  the  good 
are  certainly  even  now  happier  than  the  wicked,  and  are 
also,  for  the  most  part,  more  certainly  and  substantially 
prosperous  ;  but  still  there  are  very  great  exceptions  to 
this  general  rule  ;  and  one  thing  is  evident,  that  there  is 
never  an  exact  proportion  observed  between  u  man's 

L 


82  Proofs  of  Immortality 

meri^  and  his  fortune.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  clearer, 
than  that  the  present  life  can,  in  no  way,  be  reckoned  a 
state  of  retribution.  A  state  of  trial  it  is,  and  frequently 
the  virtue  of  good  men  is  tried  with  great  severity  ;  but 
if  there  is  no  future  state  of  retribution,  the  trial  would 
be  in  vain.  This  observation  naturally  suggests  the  be- 
lief, that  in  this  world  we  see  nothing  more  than  the  be- 
ginning of  the  divine  government ;  that  the  evils  per- 
mitted to  fall  on  the  good  are  designed  to  try  their  faith, 
and  to  strengthen  their  virtuous  habits  ;  while  the  ad- 
vantages enjoyed  by  the  wicked  are  merely  delusive,  and 
will  not  at  all  exempt  them  from  meeting  at  last  with 
the  punishment  which  is  their  due. 

Suppose  the  present  life  to  be  our  all,  and  certainly  the 
higher  exertions  of  virtue  have  no  adequate  motive.  It 
would  be  sufficient  to  live  with  that  decency  and  atten- 
tion to  character  which  are  necessary  for  our  peace  and 
security  among  men.  A  nglta  who  would  give  up  any 
pleasure,  or  worldly  good,  for  the  sake  of  virtue,  would 
be  a  loser  by  the  exchange.  Or,  granting  that  virtue 
is  always  in  a  great  measure  its  own  reward,  yet  why 
should  a  good  man  suffer  any  thing?  Why  should  not 
a  marked  distinction  be  made  between  him  and  the 
wicked  ?  Why  should  the  good  ever  have  grounds  for 
complaining,  with  David,  "  that  theij  have  cleansed  their 
heart  in  vain,  and  washed  their  hands  in  innocency  ;  for 
all  day  long  have  they  been  plagued,  arid  chastened  every 
morning?'''' — Why  should  they  have  occasion  to  be 
*'  envious  at  the  foolish,  xvhen  they  see  the  prosperity 
of  the  wicked,''''  that  "  they  are  not  in  trouble  as  other 
men,  neither  are  they  plagued  like  other  men;  therefore^ 
pride  compasseth  them  about  as  a  chain,  violence  cover- 


from  Reason,  83 

eth  them  as  a  garment  /"'  And  what  other  explana- 
tion can  be  given  to  this  strange  appearance  in  the 
administration  of  God,  except  that  which  the  psalmist 
declares  that  he  found?  "  When  I  thought  to  know  this 
(he  says),  if  was  too  painjid  for  me  ;  until  I  xvent  into 
the  sanctuary  of  God: — then  understood  I  their  end. 
Surely  thou  didst  set  them  in  slippery  places  ;  thou  call- 
edst  them  down  into  destruction  !  How  are  they  brought 
into  desolation  as  in  a  moment !  They  are  utterly  con- 
sumed with  terrors.  Nevertheless^  I  am  continually  with 
thee^  thou  hast  holden  me  by  my  right  hand.  TJioii 
shalt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel^  and  afterwards  receive 
me  to  glory.'''* 

In  confirmation  of  this  argument,  the  fears  of  bad 
men  and  the  liopes  of  the  good  are  circumstances  of  no 
inconsiderable  weight.  In  the  midst  of  the  greatest 
worldly  prosperity,  and  while  there  are  no  grounds  of 
apprehension  from  men,  giiy  should  it  so  frequently 
happen  that  a  bad  man  has  no  peace  of  mind?  Why 
should  he  fear  where  no  fear  is  ?  Why  should  consci- 
ence take  the  alarm  when  every  thing  conspires  to  lull 
him  into  security?  A  great  crime  may  be  committed 
so  secretly,  that  the  perpetrator  shall  have  no  sort  of 
reason  for  apprehending  detection.  Why,  then,  may  he 
not  live  out  his  life  in  quietness;  and  when  death  at  last 
comes  to  release  him  from  the  world,  why  should  he  not 
sink  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth  without  apprehension 
or  dismay?  Why,  but  because  he  feels  that  his  guilt 
has  not  been  hid  from  every  eye  ;  that  One  has  seen  it, 
from  whom  alone  it  was  of  importance  that  it  should  be 
concealed  ;  and  that  the  stroke  of  death  will  not  termi- 
nate his  existence,  but  will  send  him  trembling  into  the 


84  Proofs  of  Immortality 

presence  of  his  Judge  ?  This  apprehension  alone  can 
account  for  the  intolerable  agonies  which  accompany 
remorse.  When  a  bad  man  is  seized  with  this  appre- 
hension, he  then  feels,  like  Cain,  that  "  his  punishment 
is  greater  than  he  can  bear.'''*  Hence  it  is,  that  exam- 
ples have  been  found  of  men  who,  pursued  by  the  ter- 
rors of  conscience,  have  openly  declared  to  the  world 
crimes  which  would  otherwise  never  have  been  dis- 
covered ;  and  have  submitted  to  punishment  in  this 
world,  with  the  secret  hope  that  their  guilt  would  thus, 
in  some  measure,  be  expiated  in  the  sight  of  Heaven, 

The  hopes  of  good  men,  under  the  greatest  depres- 
sion of  outward  misfortunes,  point  likewise  at  this  great 
truth.  When  a  good  man  is  forsaken  by  the  world, 
and  is  subjected  to  the  miseries  of  poverty  and  the  loss 
of  friends,  he  still  finds  something  within  which  brings 
him  consolation.  It  is  not  merely  a  good  conscience, 
but  it  is  hope  founded  on  a  fjj^od  conscience.  He  has  an 
internal  assurance,  that  however  melancholy  his  present 
condition  may  be,  there  yet  is  something  good  in  store 
for  him.  This  hope  enables  him  to  bear  up,  and 
carries  him  in  triumph  through  the  storms  of  the  world. 
Whence  is  this  hope  ?  is  it  a  delusion,  or  is  it  an  as- 
surance from  one  who  cannot  lie  ? 

Such,  my  brethren,  seem  to  be  the  observations 
which,  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  have  led  men  to  con- 
clude, that  their  existence  does  not  close  with  the  pre- 
sent scene  of  things.  To  some  these  observations  may 
appear  quite  satisfactory,  and  that  the  subject  did  not 
require  any  farther  light  to  be  thrown  on  it ;  but  to 
others  they  may  appear  to  be  merely  presumptions, 
and,  after  all,  not  very  strong.    If  they  do  not  strike  the 


from  Reason.  85 

mind  in  a  peculiar  manner,  their  force  may  not  be  per- 
ceived. There  was,  therefore,  still  room  left  for  a  reve- 
lation on  this  important  point ;  and  such  a  revelation 
has  been  made  through  the  gospel.  The  evidence  for 
the  truth  of  our  resurrection,  founded  on  the  gospel,  is 
extremely  simple.  It  rests  on  the  assurances  of  our 
Saviour,  confirmed  by  his  own  resurrection  from  the 
dead.  To  these  points  I  will  beg  leave,  on  a  future 
occasion,  to  call  your  attention. 


SERMON  XL 

PROOFS  OF  IMMORTALITY  FROM  REVELATION. 


II  TIM.  i.  10. 


"  A7id  hath  brought  life  and  immor'taUty  to  light  through 
the  gospel.''^ 

IN  a  former  discourse,  my  brethren,  I  brought 
into  one  view  some  of  the  most  striking  observations 
which  have,  in  every  age,  led  men  to  conclude  that  their 
existence  does  not  terminate  with  the  present  scene  of 
mortality.  To  some,  perhaps,  such  observations  might 
seem  to  be  of  little  value,  since  we  are  now  happily  in 
possession  of  a  much  surer  ground  of  confidence  upon 
this  point  than  the  unassisted  light  of  nature  can  sup- 
ply. Yet  it  is  at  least  a  pleasing  meditation  to  contem- 
plate the  mind  of  man,  even  in  its  rudest  condition,  an- 
ticipating in  some  degree  those  sublime  truths  which  it 
was  left  for  the  gospel  clearly  to  reveal ;  and  it  must  be 
prateful  to  the  Christian  to  hear  the  sound  of  that  voice, 
v/hich  has  everywhere  cried  in  the  wilderness  of  the 
world,  "  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord^  make  his  paths 
straight.'''* 

It  is  in  this  view,  as  something  preparatory  to  the  in- 
formation afforded  us  by  revelation,  that  it  is  chiefly  in- 
teresting and  important  to  examine  the  natural  evidences 


Proofs  of  Immortality^  tsfc.  87 

of  our  immortality.  Tliere  is,  however,  a  prejudice  to 
which  such  an  inquiry  may  sometimes  give  rise,  which 
it  shall  now  be  my  business  to  obviate.  The  inquirer 
into  the  proofs  of  natural  rehgion  may  perhaps  be  so  well 
satisfied  with  the  result  of  his  investigation,  that  he  may 
think  it  of  little  importance  to  search  farther,  or  to  ex- 
amine the  pretensions  of  any  particular  revelation.  As 
this  is  a  prejudice  which  not  unfrequently  leads  into  a 
very  wide  field  of  error  and  delusion,  I  believe  it  will 
not  be  a  useless  employment  to  trace  the  fallacy  which 
lurks  under  it. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  admitting,  what  I  am  much 
disposed  to  believe,  that  the  evidences  of  our  immorta- 
lity from  reason  are  fitted  to  produce  the  highest  degree 
of  conviction  on  the  minds  of  those  who  will  candidly 
weigh  them  :  still  the  philosopher  ought  not  to  judge  of 
men  in  general  from  himself,  or  suppose  that  a  revela- 
tion is  unnecessary  for  the  instruction  of  the  human 
race,  because  it  may  be  so  to  a  few  individuals.  The 
natural  sentiments  of  all  men,  indeed,  point  to  some  state 
of  existence  beyond  the  grave ;  and  you  can  never 
banish  from  the  human  heart  the  hopes  and  the  fears  of 
futurity ;  but,  except  among  a  few  inquirers  of  deeper 
reflection  than  the  rest,  these  sentiments  exist  only  in  a 
rude  and  untutored  form  ;  and  men  will  cling  with 
eagerness  to  every  source  of  information,  true  or  false, 
by  which  they  may  be  rendered  more  satisfactory  and 
distinct. 

Thus  we  find  the  religion  of  the  great  body  of  man- 
kind to  be  always  something  more  than  their  natural 
sentiments,  and  to  consist,  in  all  appearance,  rather  of 
what  they  are  taught,  than  of  what  they  feel  to  be  true. 


88  Proofs  of  Immortality 

It  is  in  this  manner  we  may  account  for  the  wonderful 
progress  of  superstition  among  men,  and  for  the  readi- 
ness with  which  every  story,  however  monstrous  and 
extravagant,  is  Hstened  to,  that  seems  to  give  any  insight 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  unseen  world.  Nature,  in- 
deed, prompts  men  to  look  beyond  the  grave ;  but  she 
carries  most  men  no  farther  than  the  desire,  and  leaves 
them  to  found  a  faith  which  they  must  have,  not  upon 
the  conclusions  of  reason,  but  upon  any  pretension  or 
imposture  which  is  thrown  in  their  way. 

Now,  my  brethren,  is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
the  Father  of  men  should  take  pity  upon  the  mighty 
multitude  of  his  rational  creatures  who  wander  "  as 
sheep  having  no  shepherd^''''  and  that  he  should  give  them 
an  instructor  from  himself  to  lead  them  right,  when  of 
themselves  they  cannot  but  go  wrong  ?  If  it  be  said, 
let  the  wise  instruct  the  ignorant ; — alas  !  have  the  vota- 
ries of  human  wisdom  any  pretensions  by  which  they 
may  enforce  belief?  and  has  it  not,  in  all  ages,  been 
found,  that  the  only  instruction  to  which  men  will  listen 
on  the  lofty  concerns  of  other  worlds,  must  seem  to 
come  from  wisdom  superior  to  that  of  man  ?  The  an- 
cient philosophers  and  legislators  were  frequently  oblig- 
ed to  pretend  that  they  possessed  communication  with 
Heaven  ;  for  they  knew  well,  that  more  than  a  mortal 
voice  was  required  to  enforce  the  profound  truths  of 
immortality. 

But,  secondly,  my  brethren,  may  we  not  be  permit- 
ted to  suspect  that,  upon  this  head,  philosophers  some- 
times deceive  themselves  ;  and  that  the  faith  which  they 
place  in  the  doctrine  of  immortal  life,  however  firmly  it 
may  rest  on  arguments  from  reason,  is  yet  not  a  little 


from  Revelation,  89 

supported  in  their  minds  by  principles  of  which  they 
are  not  so  well  aware.  The  most  pious  of  the  heathen 
philosophers  did  not  shake  off  entirely  their  belief  in  the 
superstitions  of  their  age,  but  were  led  often  to  think 
and  feel  like  the  least  instructed  of  dieir  countrymen. 
Among  all  the  foliies  of  the  superstitions  which  sur- 
rounded  them,  they  were  yet  willing  to  believe  that  re- 
velations held  been  given  to  the  human  race  ;  and  they 
scarcely  were  arrived  at  so  much  confidence  in  the  con- 
clusions of  their  own  reason  as  not  to  wish  at  least  that 
some  revelation  might  be  given.  If  there  is  really  any 
man  in  modern  times,  who,  without  faith  in  Christianity, 
still  possesses  a  firm  conviction  of  his  immortality,  I 
will  venture  to  affirm,  that  the  faith  of  that  man  is  sup- 
ported in  no  small  degree  by  the  existence  of  Christiani- 
ty everywhere  around  him;  and,  if  he  saw  not  the  mul- 
titude going  to  the  house  of  God,  he  would  have  less 
assurance  than  he  now  feels,  that  there  is  an  eternal 
house  to  which  all  the  true  worshippers  of  God  will  one 
day  go. 

What  are  philosophers  ?  Wise  men,  certainly,  if  they 
are  really  philosophers ;  yet  they  are  but  men^  and, 
like  others,  subject  to  doubt,  despondency,  and  error. 
.1 W 11  reason  do  every  thing  for  them  ?  Does  it  leave  no 
room  for  the  apprehension  of  mistake ;  and,  on  a  point 
which  involves  so  deep  an  interest,  is  it  not  of  impor- 
tance "  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure  ?"  In  truth, 
my  brethren,  it  seems  to  be  the  intention  of  Providence 
tliat,  upon  this  great  subject  of  religion,  no  man  shall 
take  it  upon  him  to  say  that,  by  the  mere  force  of  rea- 
son, he  shall  reach  any  station  much  higher  than  is  pos- 
sessed by  the  surrounding  multitude  of  his  feliow-crea- 

M 


90  Proofs  of  Immortality 

tures ;  that  he  shall  ever  have  any  sound  pretence  to 
suppose  hhnself  above  the  necessity  of  divine  instruc- 
tion ;  or  that  he  shall  say  with  impunity  to  the  Most 
High,  "  I  seek  not  from  thee  any  addition  to  the  light  of 
my  oxvn  mi?id.^^  This  age  has  exhibited,  what  no  suc- 
ceeding age  will  forget,  the  melancholy  consequences 
which  have  followed  from  this  proud  independence  of 
understanding,  among  men  too  of  no  common  sagacity  ; 
and  we  have  beheld  the  tremendous  spectacle,  of  geni- 
us and  science  beeinninsr  with  the  disbelief  of  revela- 
tion,  and  not  settling  in  any  sound  system  of  natural 
faith  ;  but  gradually  obliterating  from  the  human  heart 
every  sentiment  of  piety,  and  bringing  nothing  in  its 
stead  but  the  coldness  of  sceptical  indifference,  or  the 
monstrous  perversions  of  determined  atheism. 

In  the  third  place,  my  brethren,  I  remark  that,  upon 
this  subject,  men  require  more  information  than  of  the 
mere  fact  of  their  immortality.  Of  itself  immortality  is 
scarcely  to  be  wished,  unless  it  is  accompanied  with  the 
prospect  of  happiness  ;  and  there  are  some  circumstan- 
ces in  the  present  condition  of  man  which  cloud  the 
prospect  of  futurity  to  the  eye  of  nature.  The  ver)'  cir- 
cumstance of  death  throws  a  shade  upon  the  scene  be- 
yond the  grave  ;  and  a  doubt  suggests  itself  to  the  mind 
of  unenlightened  men,  how  far  the  state  of  being  to 
which  he  is  hastening  is  a  condition  to  be  desired  ? 
The  vulgar  opinion  of  the  state  of  the  soul  after  death, 
prevalent  in  the  heathen  world,  was  by  no  means  a 
pleasing  one  ;  and  the  spirits  of  the  departed,  instead  of 
being  advanced  to  a  higher  sphere  of  existence,  were 
commonly  supposed  to  look  back  with  regret  on  the  en- 
joyments which  they  had  left  behind  in   this  world. 


from  Revelation*  91 

Men  of  thought  and  reflection,  indeed,  might  attain  a 
different  and  a  truer  conception,  and  might  collect,  from 
contemplating  the  attributes  of  God,  that,  in  the  untried 
state  of  being  to  which  they  were  advancing,  those  who 
performed  well  their  part  here,  Avould  be  elevated  to  a 
higher  scene.  Yet  who  are  good,  and  what  allowances 
are  to  be  made  for  the  frailties  and  imperfections  incident 
to  the  best  men  ?  And  must  the  wicked  be  consigned 
to  despair  ?  Must  they  be  abandoned  by  the  mercy  of 
God,  as  well  as  by  the  pride  of  human  virtue  ?  Is  no 
prospect  to  be  afforded  them  of  grace  and  pardon  ?  Shall 
no  assurance  be  made  to  the  penitent  sinner,  that  he  too 
will  be  received?  and,  even  although  he  should  abandon 
his  sins,  must  conscience  continue  to  terrify  him  by  the 
recital  of  his  former  iniquities  ? — These,  my  brethren, 
are  questions  to  which  unassisted  reason  can  make  no 
accurate  reply,  none  at  least  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  feel- 
ings of  the  heart.  The  best  men  require  some  positive 
assurances  to  keep  their  hopes  from  sinking  amidst  the 
consciousness  of  their  many  infirmities;  and  the  return- 
ing penitent  longs  for  some  promise,  some  sure  pledge 
of  forgiveness. 

Such,  then,  is  the  dark  condition  in  which  we  are  left 
by  nature  on  this  important  inquiry :  let  us  now  ex- 
amine what  light  has  been  thrown  upon  it  by  the 
gospel. 

When  we  look  into  the  records  of  our  religion,  the 
great  object  which  presents  itself  to  our  view  is  the  ap- 
pearance  of  a  divine  instructor,  who,  without  any  myste- 
rious concealment,  addresses  himself  to  the  race  of  man 
with  the  voice  of  authority,  and  speaks  to  them  as  to  the 


92  Proofs  of  Immortality 

children  of  God,  and  the  heirs  of  immortality.  We  see 
him,  with  the  most  winning  condescension,  opening 
these  sublime  truths  to  every  description  of  men,  preach- 
ing the  gospel  to  the  poor,  and  calling  upon  every  hu- 
man being  to  listen  to  this  single  lofty  view  of  his  na- 
ture. We  hear  him  calling  upon  all  mankind  to  aban- 
don their  follies  and  superstitions,  their  own  dreams  and 
reveries  on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  to  come  to  him, 
and  he  will  conduct  them  right !  Do  we  not  at  once 
perceive,  my  brethren,  that  this  is  the  teacher  whom 
mankind  must  follow  ;  that  it  is  he  who  must  lead  the 
human  race  ;  and  that,  however  he  may  be  rejected  and 
despised  by  some,  who  esteem  themselves  wise,  yet  that 
none  but  he  can  guide  and  conduct  the  multitude  of 
men?  Do  we  not  farther  see,  that  he  has  guided  many 
sons  and  daughters  into  the  way  of  righteousness  ;  and 
are  there  not  those  in  the  lowest  stations  of  life,  who, 
from  his  instructions,  have  attained  nobler  and  more  ele- 
vated wisdom  than  is  to  be  found  in  all  the  schools  of 
human  philosophy  ? 

While  the  doctrines  of  our  Saviour  are  so  simple, 
that  they  are  level  to  the  apprehension  of  the  least  in- 
structed of  the  human  race,  they  are  at  the  same  time 
so  sublime,  that  the  most  enlightened  cannot  conceive 
any  thing  beyond  them.  The  highest  and  purest  views 
of  human  reason  his  doctrines  confirm,  and  confirm 
them  without  any  addition  of  superstitious  delusion. 
They  form  a  point  to  which  all  the  reasonings  of  men 
on  those  lofty  subjects  may  fix  and  adhere,  and  which 
may  prevent  the  opinions  of  the  thoughtful  and  inqui- 
sitive from  being  carried  about  by  *'  every  wind  of  doc- 
trine.'''* 


from  Revelation.  93 

But,  my  brethren,  the  most  striking  circumstance  in 
the  system  of  Christianity  is  its  condescension  to  ail  the 
fears  and  all  the  frailties  of  our  nature ;  and  here  it  comes 
with  a  force  and  energy  which  every  heart  must  feel, 
and  which  no  understanding,  that  is  not  blinded,  can 
overlook.  To  the  pious  and  sincere,  whose  humility 
may  yet  be  overpowered  with  the  prospects  of  future 
glory,  and  who  fear  to  lift  their  mortal  vision  to  the  blaz- 
ing throne  of  eternity, — the  Saviour  of  mankind  speaks 
with  the  voice  of  the  kindest  encouragement,  and  as- 
sures them,  that  in  his  "  Father"* s  house  there  are  many 
mansions  ;  and  that  he  has  gone  to  prepare  a  place  for 
them.'''' — To  the  sinner,  whose  conscience  is  heavy  la- 
den,  the  same  blessed  person  addresses  himself  in  ac- 
cents of  the  tenderest  compassion,  and  bids  him  come 
to  him,  and  he  will  give  him  rest.  Are  these  assurances 
not  sufficient  ?  Does  the  sinner  still  doubt  of  forgive- 
ness,  and  tremble  in  the  presence  of  his  God  ?  Then 
let  him  look  to  "  the  Lamb  which  was  slain ;^^  to  the  of- 
fering which  God  has  provided  for  himself;  to  him  who 
promises  forgiveness,  bleeding  to  assure  him  that  he  is 
forgiven  ! 

Must  something  more  yet  be  done  ?  Does  the  cham- 
ber  of  death  still  look  sad,  and  do  our  hearts  fail  us  for 
fear,  when  we  see  all  men  entering  in,  and  none  coming 
out  ?  Does  he  who  came  to  lift  our  eyes  above  morta- 
lity sleep,  too,  in  the  grave ;  and  did  we  trust  in  vain, 
"  that  it  was  he  who  was  to  redeem  Israel?''^  No, 
Cliristian,  thy  hope  has  not  been  vain  !  The  grave  could 
not  detain  the  Captain  of  thy  salvation.  "  Death  has  had 
no  dominion  over  him.'" — "  He  has  ascended  up  on  high, 
leading  captivity  captive;''^  and  now,  in  the  fulness  of 


94  Proofs  of  Immortality^  ^c. 

faith,  thou  mayst  say,  "  0  deaths  where  is  thy  sting  ?  0 
grave,  where  is  thy  victory  .^" 

Such,  my  brethren,  are  the  stupendous  truths  which 
ye  have  now  been  contemplating !  Such  is  "  the  life 
and  immortality  which  to  you  have  been  brought  to  light 
through  the  gospel!''''  Meditate  upon  these  things,  in  the 
full  assurance  of  faith ;  glory  in  your  Christian  profes- 
sion ;  and,  when  you  call  to  mind  the  multitudes  of  your 
fellow-creatures  who  still  *'  sit  in  darkness,  and  in  the 
shadow  of  death,''''  acknowledge,  with  gratitude,  how 
greatly  you  have  been  blessed,  ' '  xvhom  the  Day-spring 
from  on  high  hath  visited ;''"'  who  have  been  brought 
into  "  the  fold ;''''  and  "  who  Imve  heard  the  voice  of  the 
shepherd ;''''  and  '*  seeing  that  all  these  present  things 
shall  be  dissolved,  consider  what  manner  of  persons  ye 
ought  to  be  in  all  holy  convei'sation  and  godliness  ;''''  who 
have  received  the  promise  of  "  nexv  heavens  and  a  ?7ew 
earth,  wherei?i  dwelleth  righteousness.'" — "  Wherefore, 
beloved,  seeing  that  ye  look  for  such  things,  be  diligent, 
that  ye  be  found  of  God  in  peace,  without  spot,  and 
blameless.'''' 


SERMON   XII. 

ON  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


EZEKIEL,  xxxvii.  3. 

^^  Ajid he  said  imto  me^  Son  ofman^  can  these  bones  live? 
And  I  answered^  0  Lord  God^  thou  knoxvest.'''' 

I  KNOW  not,  my  brethren,  whether,  in  the 
whole  volume  of  scripture,  there  is  a  passage  of  more 
astonishing  sublimity,  than  that  of  which  these  words 
form  a  part. 

"  The  hand  of  the  Lord  (says  the  prophet)  luas  upon 
me,  and  cat^ried  me  out  in  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and 
set  me  down  in  the  midst  of  the  valley  xvhich  was  full  of 
bones,  and  caused  me  to  pass  by  them  round  about ;  a?id, 
behold,  there  were  very  many  in  the  open  valley  ;  and, 
lo,  they  were  v6ry  dry.  And  he  said  unto  me.  Son  of 
man.  can  these  bones  live?  And  I  answered,  0  Lord 
God,  thou  knoxvest.  ylgain  he  said  unto  me.  Prophesy 
upon  these  bones,  and  say  unto  them,  O  ye  dry  boneSy 
hear  the  xvord  of  the  Lord.  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God 
unto  these  bones,  Behold,  Ixvdl  cause  breath  to  enter  into 
you,  and  ye  shall  live  ;  and  I  will  lay  sinews  upon  you^ 
and  xvill  bring  up  Jlesh  upon  you,  and  cover  you  xvith 
skin,  and  put  breath  in  you,  and  ye  shall  live,  and  ye  shall 


96  On  the  Resurrection 

know  that  I  atn  the  Lord.  So  I  prophesied  as  I  was 
commanded ;  and  as  I  prophesied,  there  was  a  shaking y 
and  the  bones  came  together^  bone  to  his  bone.  And 
when  I  beheld^  lo,  the  sinews  and  the  jiesh  came  upon 
them^  and  the  skin  covered  them  above  ;  but  there  was 
no  breath  in  them.  Then  said  he  unto  me.  Prophesy 
unto  the  wind,  prophesy^  son  of  man,  and  say  to  the 
wind.  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  Come  from  the  four 
winds,  O  breath,  and  breathe  upo?i  these  slain,  that  they 
may  live.  So  I  prophesied  as  he  commanded  me,  and 
the  breath  came  into  them,  and  they  lived  and  stood  up 
upon  their  feet,  an  exceeding  great  army.'''* 

It  is  no  long  time,  my  brethren,  since  we  were  called 
upon  to  contemplate  that  life  and  immortality  which  our 
Lord  brought  to  light  through  the  gospel,  when  he  rose 
in  triumph  from  the  grave,  and  became  *'  the  first 
fruits  of  them  who  sleep,''''  We  shall  soon  be  called 
upon  to  contemplate  his  ascension  into  heaven,  where 
he  now  sits  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father,  and  makes 
intercession  for  his  faithful  people.  These  are  lofty 
truths,  with  which,  from  our  earliest  years,  we  have 
been  familiar ;  but,  perhaps,  from  that  very  circum- 
stance, they  frequently  fail  to  impress  our  minds  with 
the  deep  feeling  which  naturally  belongs  to  them.  We 
*'  have  heard  of  them  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear  ;''''  we 
believe  them  to  be  true ;  but  while  our  understandings 
may  be  convinced  of  their  truth,  our  hearts  may  often 
be  unaffected  by  them.  The  world,  with  its  scenes  of 
magnificence,  activity,  and  enjoyment,  occupies  our 
eyes,  and  intrudes  into  most  of  our  meditations ;  and  we 
can  scarcely  be  prevailed  upon  to  imaErine  that  there  is 
any  thing  substantial  in  those  stupendous  scenes  which 


of  the  Dead.  97. 

lie  beyond  it.  With  a  view  to  correct  these  prejudiceij, 
it  will  not,  I  believe,  be  a  useless  employment  to  fol- 
low the  prophet  into  the  dark  scene  of  his  meditations ; 
to  contemplate  with  him  the  cheerless  termination  of  a 
temporary  being  ;  and  when  all  mortal  hope  is  at  an 
end,  and  when  the  world  is  shut  out  from  our  thoughts, 
Avith  him  to  fix  our  eye  on  those  prophetic  rays  which 
brighten  the  gloom,  and  which  visit  with  "  the  Day' 
spring  from  on  high,^^  even  "  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death.'*  "^ 

"  The  hand  of  the  Lord  (says  he)  was  upon  me^  and 
carried  me  out  in  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  set  me 
down  in  the  midst  of  the  valley  which  was  full  of  bones ^ 
and  caused  me  to  pass  by  them  roufid  about ;  and  behold, 
there  rvere  very  many  in  the  open  valley  ;  and,  h!  they 
were  very  dry."*"*  The  opening  of  the  description,  my 
brethren,  presents  a  picture  which  we  are  naturally  averse 
to  contemplate ;  we  fly  from  it  into  the  scenes  of  dissipa- 
tion ;  "  the  harp  and  the  viol  are  in  our  feasts;''''  and  we 
seek  to  banish,  in  the  transitory  enjoyments  of  our  being, 
the  forebodings  of  its  final  close.  There  are  times, 
however,  when  "  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon  us,^^ 
and  when  the  most  thoughtless  of  us  are  *'  carried  out 
in  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  are  set  down  m  the  midst 
of  the  valley  xvhich  is  full  of  bones.^^  We  are  called, 
perhaps,  to  follow  to  the  grave  the  parents  whom  we 
venerated  and  loved  ;  the  companions  of  our  youth,  or 
the  partners  of  our  affections,  drop  down  in  the  dust  be- 
fore us  ;  even  the  buds  of  infancy  are  nipped,  and  those 
new  affections,  which  seemed  to  carry  us  forward  into 
a  long  futurity,  are  suddenly  crushed  in  the  moment  of 
their  formation.     We  then  willingly  sit  down  w  ith  the 

.     N 


98  On  the  Resurrection  -^ 

prophet  "  in  the  midst  of  the  valley  which  is  full  of 
hones.''''  We  hear  the  wind  sigh  through  the  grass 
which  covers  them ;  we  raise  our  languid  eyes,  and  fix 
them  on  the  monuments  of  mortaUty  ;  we  "  pass  by 
them  round  about  i"*"*  the  world,  with  all  its  splendour, 
and  toil,  and  gaiety,  vanishes  from  our  sight ;  and  we 
are  drawn,  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  to  contemplate^ 
with  undivided  attention,  the  gloomy  scene,  in  which 
all  we  have  admired  or  valued  here  must  inevitably  ter- 
minate ;  on  the  "  very  many  bones  in  the  open  valley ^''^ 
deprived  of  every  principle  of  life,  and  become  "  very 
dry.'' 

In  these  moments  of  melancholy  thought,  when  all 
the  occupations  of  men  seem  insignificant,  and  for  no 
end ;  when  the  labours  or  the  enjoyments  which  fill  up 
the  space  of  our  "  few  and  evil  days^""  seem  only  to 
deceive  us  with  false  hopes,  or  to  give  us  a  taste  of  hap- 
piness which  must  speedily  pass  away  j  when  the  beauty 
of  creation  itself  is  lost  to  us,  and  the  sun  which  shines 
above  our  heads  seems  only  to  "  light  us  to  the  tomb;" 
what,  I  beseech  you,  is  the  only  inquiry  which  we  are 
anxious  to  make,  the  only  information  we  are  willing  to 
receive  ?  The  voice  which  spoke  to  the  prophet  is  then 
heard  to  speak  in  every  human  heart,  and  to  utter  the 
words  of  incalculable  import,  '*  Son  of  man y  can  these 
bones  live  ?"  The  reply  to  this  solemn  inquiry  will  not, 
in  that  hour,  my  brethren,  be  the  careless  trifling  of  the 
sophist.  The  lofty  mind  of  man  will  not  then  stoop  to 
play  tricks  with  its  own  ingenuity ;  but  the  eye  of  nature 
will  be  raised  to  heaven,  burning  through  its  tears,  and 
the  voice  of  the  heart  will  cry  aloud  to  the  Father  of 
existence,  and  will  seek  from  him  the  knowledge  of  the 


of  the  Dead.  99 

destiny  of  man,  "  0  Lord  God,  thou  knowest.'''  The 
gloom  of  the  grave  is  no  darkness  to  thee ;  thou  breath- 
est  into  man  the  breath  of  life,  and  thou  takest  it  away; 
thou  alone  canst  tell  whether  his  being  may  be  renewed ! 

It  is  thus  we  may  interpret  the  reply  of  the  prophet ; 
and  it  is  in  this  manner  that  light  begins  to  break  in 
upon  the  obscurity  of  "  the  valley  which  is  full  of 
bones.''''  With  what  gratitude  are  the  first  rays  of  that 
celestial  light  then  hailed  !  and  how  eagerly  does  the  soul 
apply  for  still  forther  illumination  to  that  living  source 
whence  alone  it  can  flow  !  How  many  doubts  and  mis- 
givings are  dispelled,  when  the  God  of  nature  is  once 
fairly  recognized !  and,  when  the  api:)eal  is  made  to  him, 
how  willingly  does  he  insinuate  the  prophecy  of  immor- 
tality I 

**  Again  he  said  unto  me  (continues  die  prophet),  Pro- 
phesy upon  these  bofies,  and  say  unto  them^  Thus  saith. 
the  Lord  God  unto  these  bones.  Behold  I  will  cause  breath 
to  enter  into  you,  and  ije  shall  live.''''  The  same  words 
of  prophecy  which  were  at  this  time  heard  by  Ezekiel, 
were  likewise  heard  by  many  wise  and  good  men  of  the 
heathen  world,  who,  like  him,  wandered  in  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  through  the  valley  of  bones,  and  from  that 
cheerless  scene  of  desolation,  were,  like  him,  prompted 
to  lift  the  eye  of  faith  to  the  Father  of  their  being. 
Whenever  the  words  of  faith  were  uttered,  '*  0  Lord 
God,  thou  knowest  ;"  whenever  the  material  veil  was  for 
a  moment  raised,  and  a  glimpse  was  caught  of  the  eter- 
nal throne  of  God, — then  the  rays  of  prophetic  hope 
dawned  upon  "  the  shadow  of  deatJi ;''''  and  nature  her- 
self, independently  of  immediate  inspiration,  could  fore- 
tel  the  rise  of  the  immortal  form  of  man  from  the  sleep 


l66  On  the  Resurrection 

of  the  grave.  The  evidences  arising  from  the  attributes 
of  God;  from  the  dignity  of  the  human  mind;  from  the 
analogies  of  nature,  then  crowded  in  with  an  increasing 
force  ;  and  even  in  those  dark  ages,  which  "  the  Day- 
spring  from  on  high  had  not  visited,^''  could  assume  the 
high  tone  and  firmness  of  prophetic  assurance.  It  is  thus 
delightful  to  find,  that  in  no  age  of  the  world  did  God 
leave  himself  without  a  witness  ;  and  that  the  loftiest 
truths  of  religion  rose,  as  if  of  their  own  accord,  in  the 
minds  of  the  contemplative,  from  amidst  the  very  hor- 
rors which  seemed  to  bury  and  overwhelm  them. 

"  And  as  I  prophesied  there  was  a  shaking,  and  the 
bones  came  together^  bone  to  his  bone.''''  I  will  not,  my 
brethren,  trust  myself  to  repeat  the  astonishiiig  descrip- 
tion which  follows ;  when  the  visions  of  prophecy  as- 
summed  the  appearance  of  present  reality  ;  when  the 
prophet  at  once  beheld  what  before  he  had  only  imagine 
cd  ;  when  the  dead  were  raised  up  in  multitudes  around 
him  ;  and  when  an  "  exceeding  great  army''''  rose  from 
the  "  dry  bones.''"'  It  is  more  important  for  me  to  say, 
that  what  this  vision  was  to  him,  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord 
is  to  us  ;  that,  to  the  Christian,  the  prophetic  hopes  of 
nature  assume  the  evidence  of  reality  ;  that  in  his  hours 
of  meditation  in  "  the  valley  which  is  full  of  bones  ^^''  the 
truths  of  his  religion  speak  from  the  silence  of  the  grave  ; 
that  he  then  seems  to  hear  the  Captain  of  his  salvation 
caliir.g  to  the  four  winds,  and  bidding  the  earth  give  up 
the  accumulated  dead  of  ages,  and  to  behold  "  the  ex- 
ceeding great  army  of  the  faithful,^''  which,  from  the 
east  and  from  the  west,  from  the  north  and  from  the 
south,  shall  obey  the  call,  and  shall  follow  their  leader 


of  the  Dead,  101 

into  those  mansions  which  he  has  already  gone  to  pre- 
pare for  them. 

The  allusion  here  made  to  the  gospel  appears  indeed 
to  be  obvious  and  striking.  "  As  I prophesied^''^  says 
Ezekiel — at  the  very  moment  when  the  eye  of  man  was 
anxiously  turned  towards  his  future  being ;  when  the 
contemplative  and  the  pious  were  eagerly  accumulating 
the  evidences  of  their  immortality,  and  were  rousing  up 
every  principle  of  faith,  he  who  obtained  a  victory  oVer 
the  grave,  made  this  great  truth  obvious  even  to  sense  ; 
and  wherever  his  followers  carried  the  glad  tidings  of  his 
resurrection,  the  day-spring  from  on  high  was  immedi- 
ately shed  abroad  over  many  a  nation  which  had  "  sat  in 
darkness,  and  in  the  shadow  of  death.'*'' 

It  is  thus,  my  brethren,  that  I  have  endeavoured  once 
more  to  lead  your  attention  to  the  loftiest  and  most  in- 
teresting truth  of  religion.  There  are  times,  we  see, 
when  nothing  short  of  this  truth  can  give  the  slightest 
interest  to  the  human  mind ;  when  the  sun  loses  its 
light,  and  all  nature  is  dead  and  gloomy  without  it; 
and  when  the  only  consolation  the  heart  can  know  is 
contained  in  the  answer  to  the  solemn  question,  "  Son 
of  man,  can  these  bones  live  ?"  The  answer  to  that 
question  is  found  by  those  only  who  listen  to  it  in  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord ;  who,  in  the  lowest  depth  of  their 
affliction,  or  in  their  gloomiest  meditations  on  the  fate  of 
man,  can  yet  lift  the  eye  of  hope  and  of  piety  to  the 
Father  of  nature ;  and,  while  their  own  thoughts  are 
dark,  can  yet  say  to  him,  "  0  Lord  God,  thou  knowest,'*^ 
From  minds  thus  prepared,  my  brethren,  all  the  doubts 
of  nature,  or  of  a  vain  philosophy,  will  speedily  pass 


102  On  the  Resurrection^  ^c, 

away ;  the  lights  of  reason  will  illuminate  their  path  ; 
and  the  stronger  beam  of  revelation  will,  even  now,  seem 
to  disclose  the  celestial  life  and  immortality  which  are 
lurking  unperceiv^ed  for  a  time  under  the  "  mant/  dry 
bones''^  in  the  valley  of  death. 

If  there  are  times  when  this  lofty  doctrine  alone  can 
afford  us  a  gleam  of  comfort,  there  is  no  time  in  which 
it  ought  to  pass  entirely  from  our  thoughts.  There  is 
in  fact  no  time  of  our  mortal  existence  in  which  we  are 
not  passing  through  "  the  valley  which  is  full  of  bones.^^ 
We  are  now  treading  upon  the  bones  of  our  fathers;  and 
the  feet  of  our  children  will  soon  pass  over  ours.  Is 
this  a  world  then,  my  brethren,  which  ought  to  claim  all 
our  affections  ?  Is  it  meet  that  our  "  abiding  city'*''  should 
be  here  ?  and,  instead  of  pursuing  without  ceasing  those 
advantages  which  must  terminate  here,  shall  we  not  en- 
deavour to  tread  in  that  path  of  steady  goodness  which 
leads  so  surely  into  a  brighter  and  an  eternal  abode  ? 

This  path  is  found  without  any  difficult  or  perplexed 
inquiry,  by  him  who  will  seek  for  it  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Lord,  and  will  here,  too,  say  with  the  prophet,  "  O 
Lord  God,  thou  know  est. ^"^  Even  those  who  are  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  thou,  O  Lord  God,  knowest  how 
to  restore.  To  this  moral  resurrection  the  prophet  at 
last  alludes,  and  thus  closes  the  profound  doctrine  which 
he  had  unveiled. 

"  Then  he  said  unto  me,  Son  of  man,  these  bones  are 
the  whole  house  of  Israel :  behold  they  say,  our  bones  are 
dried  and  our  hope  is  lost;  therefore  prophesy  and  say  unto 
them.  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  Behold,  0  my  people,  I 
will  open  your  gj'aves,  and  will  put  my  spirit  in  you,  and 
ye  shall  live.  Then  shall  ye  know  that  I  the  Lord  have 
spoken  it,  and  have  perfonned  it,  saith  the  Lord.''^ 


SERMON  XIII. 

THE  TEMPORAL  ADVANTAGES  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


EPHESIANS,  iv.  8. 


*'  Wherefore  he  saith^  When  he  ascended  up  on  high^  he 
led  captivity  captive^  and  gave  gifts  unto  men.'*'' 

THESE  words,  my  brethren,  express  very  beau- 
tifully the  nature  of  those  blessings  which  have  been 
conferred  on  the  human  race  by  the  Son  of  God. 
"  When  he  ascended  up  on  high^  he  led  captivity  cap- 
tive ;"  he  rescued  men  from  the  bondage  of  sin  and 
death ;  overcame  the  rulers  of  the  spiritual  darkness  of 
this  world ;  and  opened  up  that  new  and  living  way,  by 
which  the  pure  in  heart  may  draw  near  to  God,  as  chil- 
dren to  an  indulgent  parent. 

It  is  to  the  concluding  words  of  the  text,  however,  that 
I  wish  at  present  to  confine  your  attention.  *'  He  gave 
gifts  unto  men.'*'*  The  apostle  explains  immediately  to 
what  kind  of  gifts  he  refers  :  '•'■he  gave  some  apostles^ 
and  some  prophets,  and  so?7ie  evangelists,  and  some  pas- 
tors and  teachers,  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints^  for 
the  work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  edifying  of  the  body  of 
Christ :  till  ive  all  come  in  the  unity  of  the  faith,  and  of 


104  The  Temporal  Advantages 

the  knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God,  unto  a  perfect  many 
unto  the  measure  of  the  statureof  the  fulness  of  Christ.^"* 

The  extraordinary  providence  of  God,  in  the  early- 
progress  of  the  gospel,  naturally  attracted  the  peculiar  at- 
tention  of  the  apostle.  The  spirit  of  G^d  was  visibly 
moving  upon  the  face  of  the  waters,  and  dividing  the 
light  from  the  darkness.  The  beauty  of  the  moral  world 
was  now  breaking  forth  into  view,  and  the  great  Parent 
of  all  was  seen  looking  upon  it  also,  and  beholding  it  to 
be  very  good.  The  mind  of  the  apostle  evidently  la- 
bours with  the  mighty  scene  that  was  before  him  ;  and 
here,  as  in  many  other  passages  of  his  writings,  he  seems 
incapable  of  finding  words  to  express  the  magnitude  of 
his  conceptions.  It  was  his  lot  to  behold  the  infant 
church  striking  root, — the  grain  of  mustard  seed  thrown 
into  the  earth.  He  saw  the  hand  of  him  who  planted  it 
pouring  upon  it  the  dew  of  heaven  ;  and  his  prophetic 
eye  looks  forward  to  the  time  when  it  should  become  a 
great  tree,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  should  lodge  in  its 
branches. 

It  was  impossible,  therefore,  in  those  times,  to  avoid 
perceiving  the  constant  presence  of  Christ  with  his 
church,  or  to  overlook  the  gifts  which  he  was  so  liberal- 
ly dispensing  among  men.  But  now  the  case  is  differ- 
ent :  the  religion  of  Jesus  has  long  been  established ; 
the  miraculous  gifts  of  the  spirit  have  ceased  ;  the  tree 
has  bepome  great,  and  the  birds  are  now  lodging  in  its 
branches.  The  object  is  in  fact  greater  and  more  stu- 
pendous  than  it  was  in  the  days  of  the  apostle,  but  we 
naturally  give  it  less  of  our  attention.  The  magnificent 
arrangement  of  the  heavens,  and  the  beauties ^o  liberally 
scattered  over  the  face  of  th^  earth,  are  proofs  of  the 


of  Christianity.  105 

divine  wisdom  and  goodness,  no  less  now  than  on  the 
first  day  of  creation,  "  when  the  morning  stars  sang 
together^  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy;''^  but 
custom  has  so  inured  our  minds  to  the  splendid  specta- 
cle, that  wc  scarcely  contemplate  it  witii  admiration. 
In  like  manner,  having  been  born  and  educated  under 
the  influence  of  Christianity,  we  lose  sight  of  many  of 
the  advantages  which  we  have  derived  from  it;  and  are 
apt  to  impute  most  of  the  blessings  which  we  enjoy  to 
nature,  and  to  the  course  of  events,  which  yet,  when 
rightly  understood,  are  to  be  ascribed  to  our  religion. 

To  this  subject  I  beg  leave  at  present  shortly  to  direct 
your  attention,  both  as  it  is  very  interesting  in  itself, 
and  as  it  will  naturally  lead  me  to  speak  of  that  charita- 
ble institution  *,  to  wliich  we  have  this  day  been  invited 
to  contribute. 

It  is  very  generally  acknowledged,  that  the  state  of 
the  world  is,  on  the  whole,  greatly  improved  since  he 
introduction  of  the  gospel ;  and,  whatever  may  be  said 
of  the  mischiefs  occasioned  by  superstitious  and  per- 
verted views  of  Ciiristianity,  it  cannot  be  denied,  that 
the  natural  tendency  of  a  religion  which  declares  all 
men  to  be  the  children  of  one  common  parent,  and 
which  speaks  of  charity  as  the  end  of  the  command- 
ment, must  ever  have  been  to  produce  "  glory  to  God 
in  the  highest^  and  on  earth  peace  and  good  will  toward 
men.'''' 

These  effects  have  followed  from  Christianity  in  no 
common  degree.  Even  in  the  times  of  the  darkest  super- 
stition, there  have  been  men  who  caught  the  true  spirit 

*  The  Public  Dispensary. 
n 


106  The  Temporal  Advantages 

of  the  gospel,  and  were  "  as  cities  set  upon  a  hill,  that 
could  not  be  hid.'''*  How  much  happiness  was  dissemi- 
nated among  men  in  the  worst  of  times,  by  the  faith  and 
charity  of  those  individuals  who  have  been  true  follow- 
ers of  Christ,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  calculate  ;  but 
we  may  be  assured  that,  although  we  meet  not  in  the 
page  of  history  with  any  detail  of  their  humble  but 
glorious  efibrts,  yet  the  effect  produced  was  not  incon- 
siderable ;  and  that,  while  in  those  gloomy  periods  we 
are  accustomed  to  discern  nothing  but  superstition  and 
misery,  still  the  footsteps  of  the  Son  of  God  were  to  be 
traced  among  the  dwellings  of  men,  and  the  light  from 
above  was  still  cheering  and  animating  many  an  honest 
heart. 

The  advantages  of  the  gospel,  however,  are  more 
apparent  in  times  of  civilization  and  knowledge.  We 
then  find  Christianity  promoting  and  sanctifying  every 
exertion  which  is  made  for  the  benefit  of  the  human 
race.  We  find  it  giving  an  impulse  to  every  sound  and 
liberal  inquiry,  and  extending  the  bounds  of  the  science 
and  the  wisdom  of  man.  We  find  its  spirit  entering 
into  the  counsels  of  nations,  and  gradually  striving  to 
appease  the  animosities  by  which  they  are  divided.  We 
find  it  unbinding  the  chains  of  the  captive,  and  breath- 
ing over  the  whole  world  the  maxims  of  impartial  jus- 
tice and  of  enlightened  benevolence. 

Are  these  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  chris- 
tian world  to  be  ascribed  solely  to  the  progress  of  civi- 
lization and  philosophy  ?  Why,  then,  were  they  not 
to  be  found  in  the  ancient  world  ?  Some  of  the  nations 
of  antiquity  were  greatly  advanced  in  all  the  arts  and 
improvements  by  which  social  life  is   benefited   and 


of  Christianity.  107 

adorned ;  but  they  were  far  from  possessing  the  same 
principles  of  wisdom,  of  humanity,  and  of  justice,  which 
are  now  understood  at  least,  if  they  are  but  imperfectly 
brought  into  action.  We  are  in  the  habit  of  boasting 
greatly  of  our  advantages  in  point  of  civilization  and 
philosopliy  ;  but  we  are  not  always  very  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge the  source  from  which  these  advantages  arc- 
derived  to  us.  I  will  not,  however,  hesitate  to  affirm, 
that  unless  a  steady  beam  from  heaven  had  opened  up  to 
man  the  path  of  truth  and  of  wisdom,  the  world  would 
still  have  exhibited  the  melancholy  spectacle  of  the 
blind  leading  the  blind ;  and  instead  of  that  fair  and  in- 
creasing fabric  of  knowledge  and  of  improvement  which 
we  now  behold  rearing  around  us,  which  is  founded 
upon  the  rock  of  ages,  and  which  the  winds  and  the 
rains  of  time  assail  in  vain,  we  should  still  have  beheld 
the  efforts  of  man  wasted  on  some  tower  of  Babel,  be- 
ginning in  extravagance,  and  terminating  in  confusion. 
From  these  extensive  views,  let  us  turn  to  the  more 
familiar  consideration  of  the  influence  of  Christianity  on 
the  habits  of  private  life.  Haw  beautifully  have  these 
been  improved  by  it !  How  much  have  the  grosser 
vices  been  extirpated,  or  driven  into  obscurity  !  There 
is  a  sanctity  and  purity  in  the  private  life  of  good  men, 
and  by  a  kind  of  necessity  in  the  domestic  life  of  all 
men,  which  was  far  from  prevailing  in  the  world  be- 
fore  the  introduction  of  the  gospel.  Even  politeness, 
and  the  manners  of  good  society,  however  artificial  they 
may  be,  are  yet,  in  a  great  measure,  produced  by  the 
influence  of  Christianity  on  the  public  mind.  The 
amusements  of  men  are  regulated  by  the  same  spirit. 
There  is  a  decency  prevalent,  which  is  expressive  of 


108  The  Temporal  Advantages 

innocence,  and  which  cannot  with  impunity  be  great- 
ly violated.  Thus,  luxury  has  been  restrained  within 
bounds;  the  higher  orders  of  society  are  prevented  from 
carrying  a  licence  of  manners  far  beyond  the  limits  of 
propriety ;  and  while  they  are  indulged  in  those  elegan- 
cies of  life  which  are  suited  to  their  station,  they  are  yet 
kept  in  check  by  the  warning  voice,  that  they  must "  use 
these  things  as  not  abusing  them.'''' 

If  the  manners  of  the  affluent  have  thus  been  improv- 
ed, the  interests  and  happiness  of  the  lower  orders  of 
society  have  met,  in  the  progress  of  the  gospel,  with  a 
regard  and  an  attention  which  was  quite  unexampled 
in  the  former  history  of  the  world.  It  is  impossible, 
my  brethren,  that  within  my  present  limits  I  can  do  any 
justice  to  this  most  distinguishing  feature  of  Christianity. 
That  it  was  one  great  object  of  our  Saviour's  mission, 
appears  from  his  declaration,  that  he  came  to  "  preach 
the  gospel  to  the  poor  .•*'  it  appears  from  the  constant 
application  which  he  gave,  when  on  earth,  to  the  relief 
of  the  infirmities  of  the  lowest  of  the  people  :  it  appears 
still  more  from  the  striking  fact,  that  he  was  himself  a 
poor  man,  who  had  *'  not  where  to  lay  his  head.''''  I 
know  not  any  conceivable  circumstance  which  could 
have  had  a  more  powerful  influence  in  raising  and  digni- ' 
fying  the  condition  of  poverty ;  in  making  it  respectable 
in  the  eyes  of  the  proudest  and  most  affluent ;  in  making 
them  zealous  to  relieve  the  distresses  to  which  it  is  lia- 
ble, than  this  most  astonishing  fact,  that  the  same  per- 
son, before  whom  the  potentates  of  the  earth  now  bow 
the  knee  ;  whose  name  in  every  Christian  land  is  classed 
with  the  highest  which  is  named ;  whose  dignity  is  so 
Ibfty,  that  the  imagination  of  man  loses  it  amidst  the 


of  Christianity.  109 

splendours  of  Deity  ;  that  he,  when  he  lived  among 
men,  should  have  appeared  in  the  obscurest  condition, 
and  with  the  fewest  external  advantages.  That  all  these 
circumstances  have  had  a  prodigious  effect  in  removing 
the  worst  prejudices  which  arise  from  the  inequalities 
of  rank  in  society,  appears,  in  the  first  place,  from  the 
comparative  freedom  and  importance  to  which  the  lower 
orders  have  attained  in  every  Christian  country ;  and, 
secondly,  from  the  many  institutions  which,  wherever 
Christianity  is  disseminated,  have  been  established  for 
removing  the  wants,  and  for  relieving  the  diseases  of 
the  poor. 

It  is  thus,  my  brethren,  that  our  Saviour  has  bestow- 
ed present  gifts  upon  men,  and  that  the  same  divine 
person  who  undertook  and  accomplished  their  eternal 
salvation,  is,  in  the  present  life,  their  greatest  benefac- 
tor and  friend.  This  reflection,  pursued  through  all  the 
departments  of  human  life,  in  which  Christianity  has 
been  beneficial,  either  by  its  precepts  or  its  spirit,  re- 
stores us  again,  in  some  measure,  to  the  times  of  its  ori- 
gin, and  makes  us  still  partake  in  the  benefit  of  our  Sa- 
viour's presence.  When  we  accustom  ourselves  to  be- 
hold his  hand  spreading  abroad  happiness  among  nations, 
or  pointing  out  to  men  the  paths  of  peace  in  private  life, 
we  can  still  fancy  that  we  are  enjoying  his  companv,  and 
listening  to  his  sublime  instructions.  We  even  are  wit- 
nesses of  his  miracles ;  we  see  the  worst  diseases  of 
body  or  of  mind  healed  or  relieved  in  those  institutions 
which  his  Spirit  inspired,  and  over  which  it  presides ; 
and,  like  the  disciples  of  old,  we  hear  his  voice  sending 
us  forth  to  be  fellow- workers  with  him  in  these  labours 
of  love,  with  him  "  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor;  to 


110  The  Temporal  Advantages,  ^c. 

heal  the  sick  ;  to  cleanse  the  lepers  ;  and  freely  to  give, 
as  freely  we  have  received.'''' 

On  the  subject  of  the  institution,  which  at  present 
claims  our  assistance,  my  words  shall  be  few.  It  is 
most  evidently  a  Christian  institution,  and  breathes  the 
genuine  spirit  of  the  gospel.  It  supplies  the  poor  of  our 
people  with  aid  and  advice,  under  the  pressure  of  disease; 
restores  to  their  families  the  labour  of  fathers  and  of 
sons  ;  and  smooths  the  bed  of  death  to  the  infirm  and 
the  aged.  *'  It  suffers  likewise  the  little  children  to  come 
unto  it ;"  and  by  the  application  of  that  blessed  discove- 
ry *,  which  has  in  our  day  been  a  "  gift  unto  men,''*  and 
which  has  for  ever  freed  the  anxious  minds  of  parents 
from  one  of  their  heaviest  alarms,  it  preserves  to  the  poor 
man  those  children  to  whom  he  yet  looks  forward  for 
his  future  support,  and  whom  he  hopes  to  render  a  bless- 
ing to  their  country.  I  need  not  add  one  farther  word 
of  recommendation.  You  have  here,  my  brethren,  an 
opportunity  of  co-operating  with  your  heavenly  master 
in  his  benevolent  designs  for  the  good  of  mankind. 
You  have  lately  risen  from  his  altar,  where  you  beheld 
him  "  ascending  up  on  high,  and  leading  captivity  cap- 
tive.''^ He  now  sends  you  forth  to  be  the  ministers  of 
''  his  gifts  to  men.**  Go,  then,  and  rejoice  that  you  are 
thoughtworthy  to  be  so  employed  ;  and  remember  with 
gratitude,  **  that,  inasmuch  as  ye  do  good  to  one  of  the 
least  of  these  his  brethren,''''  he  esteems  it  done  *'  unto 
himP* 

*  Vaccination. 


SERMON  XIV. 


rilC  SUPERIOR  IMPORTANCE  OF  IMORAL  DUTIES. 


:MATTHE\V,  ix.  13. 

"  But  go  ye,  and  learn  what  that  meaneth  ;  I  will  have 
mercy,  and  not  sacrifice,'*'* 

THE  Pharisees,  who  were  particularly  rigid  in 
their  outward  demeanour,  although  their  hearts  were 
very  far  from  being  penetrated  with  just  sentiments  of 
religion,  pretended  to  find  fault  with  our  Saviour,  for  the 
ease  and  freedom  with  which  he  frequented  all  kinds  of 
society,  as  if,  by  so  doing,  he  was  derogating  from  that 
iiigh  character  which  he  assumed. — "  fJ^hy  eatethyour 
master  with  publicans  and  sinners  .^"  was  a  question 
which  they  frequently  put  to  his  disciples ;  and  the  an- 
swer which  it  received  from  Jesus  was  one  into  the  spi- 
rit of  which  they  were  probably  very  little  caps'.ble  of 
ciUcring. — "  They  that  be  whole  (says  he)  need  not  a 
physician,  but  they  that  are  sick  .•"  and  then  in  tlie  words 
of  the  text  he  proceeds:  "  but  go  ye  and  learn  what  that 
meaneth,  I  will  have  mercy  and  ?iot  sacrifice.''^ — As  i^ 
he  had  said:  "  In  consequence  of  your  perverted  notions 
of  relit^ion,  you  cannot  at  all  comprehend  the  nature  of 


112  The  Superior  Importance 

my  mission.  You  suppose  that  religion  consists  in  a 
formal  attention  to  rites  and  ceremonies ;  I  came  into 
the  world  to  show  that  it  is  an  active  principle,  operat- 
ing upon  man  as  a  member  of  society,  and  leading  to  a 
course  of  unwearied  beneficence  :  you  suppose  that  the 
Deity  is  gratified  with  the  pomp  of  worship  and  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  countenance  ;  I  came  to  show  that  a  good 
heart  is  what  he  requires,  and  that  he  judges  of  the  heart 
much  more  from  the  conduct  of  man  with  man,  than 
from  any  praises  or  adoration  which  can  be  bestowed  on 
himself." 

The  error  of  the  Pharisees,  which  our  Saviour  here 
exposes,  is  one  which  is  very  apt  to  insinuate  itself  into 
the  minds  of  those,  who,  having  acquired  a  speculative 
belief  in  matters  of  faith,  have  yet  neglected  to  apply  their 
religious  principles  to  the  discipline  of  the  heart.  Reli- 
gion,  considered  merely  as  a  speculation,  opens  up  so 
wide  a  field,  whether  we  inquire  into  the  divine  attri- 
butes, into  the  immortality  of  man,  or  that  peculiar  dis- 
pensation of  Providence  revealed  to  us  in  the  gospel ; 
that  the  mind  which  is  occupied  with  such  investiga- 
tions is  frequently  liable  to  be  carried  away  from  the 
business  of  life,  and  lost  in  the  unseen  world  ;  to  quit 
sight  of  those  ties  by  which  it  is  connected  with  the  pre- 
sent order  of  things. — It  is  thus  that  religious  views  oc- 
casionally abstract  a  man  from  the  duties  which  he  owes 
to  his  fellow- creatures,  and  lift  him  out  of  that  sphere 
in  which  Providence  designed  him  to  walk. — Fixing  his 
thoughts  on  things  above  this  world,  he  is  apt  to  look 
with  contempt  both  on  the  common  pains  and  the  com- 
mon pleasures  incident  to  human  nature ;  he  becomes 
unfeeling  and  austere;  moving  in  a  higher  circle,  he 


of  Moral  Duties.  113 

scarcely  regards  man  as  his  brother;  and  his  feelings  are 
more  shocked  with  die  neglect  of  any  reverential  cere- 
mony connected  with  the  objects  of  his  meditation,  than 
with  the  violation  of  those  moral  ties  which  bind  man  to 
man.  Here  we  see  the  openings  by  which  spiritual  pride 
finds  its  way  into  the  mind  ;  the  sources  of  uncharitable 
opinions  and  inhuman  bigotry;  the  substitution  of  fri\'o. 
lous  and  superstitious  observances  in  the  room  of  real 
devotion  and  of  active  beneficence. 

It  will  not  therefore  be  a  useless  employment  to  en- 
force that  view  of  religion  exhibited  by  our  Saviour  in 
the  text ;  for  which  purpose  I  shall  employ  two  argu- 
ments,  the  first  drawn  from  the  consideration  of  the  di- 
vine beneficence,  the  second  from  the  condition  of  man 
in  this  world. 

First,  then,  contemplate  the  divine  beneficence.  If 
there  is  any  thing  certain  in  religion,  it  is  this  :  that  God 
is  good  ;  that  he  created  the  world  in  love ;  and  that  his 
kind  providence  and  tender  mercy  are  over  all  his  works. 
Whether  we  attend  to  the  marks  of  goodness  displayed 
in  the  common  administration  of  the  world,  or  take  in 
those  more  enlarged  views  with  which  Christianity  ])re- 
sents  us,  it  will  appear,  that  love  to  his  creatures  is  the 
ruling  principle  of  the  divine  agency.  We  cannot,  in- 
deed, on  any  other  ground  account  for  the  creation  of 
the  world,  or  see  a  reason  why  a  being,  who  Vvas  com- 
plete in  himself,  should  call  into  existence  such  an  in- 
finite multiplicity  of  living  creatures.  The  goodness  of 
God  is  a  great  motive  for  every  return  of  gratitude  an.d 
devotion ;  for  the  inward  sentiments  of  a  pious  heart ; 
and  for  the  out^vard  demonstration  of  homage  and  wor- 
ship.    But  the  assurance  of  this  great  truth,  tlint  Gocl  is 

r 


1 1 4  The  Superior  Importance 

altogether  beneficent,  may  convince  us,  that  every  thing 
"which  promotes  the  good  of  his  creatures  is  much  more 
occeptiible  in  his  sight  than  any  praise  or  adoration  which 
can  be  conferred  upon  liimself. — *'  /  will  have  mercy ^ 
and  not  sacrifice,^''  is  therefore,  in  all  likelihood,  the  lan- 
guage in  which  God  addresses  himself  to  every  order  of 
beings  ;  to  tlie  blessed  spirits  that  enjoy  the  brightness 
of  his  glory,  and  glow  with  the  constant  flame  of  devo- 
tion, as  well  as  to  man  !  "  Are  they  not  all  ministering 
spirits  (saith  the  apostle  to  the  Hebrews),  sent  forth  to 
minister  Jor  them  ivho  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  ?" 

But  that  this  is  the  onl}^  language  in  which  man  can 
reasonably  be  addressed,  will  appear  evident,  if  we  go 
on,  in  the  second  place,  to  consider  his  condition  in  this 
world. — It  is  the  doctrine  of  scripture  (and  probably 
the  soundest  observations  on  human  nature  will  confirm, 
the  fact)  that  man  is  a  fallen  being ;  that  he  is  not  such 
as  he  came  from  the  hands  of  God;  that  he  has  in  a  great 
measure  lost  sight  of  his  divine  origin  ;  and,  therefore, 
all  his  attempts  to  elevate  his  thoughts  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  divine  perfections,  must  be  extremely  defec- 
tive and  inadequate. — The  praises  which  man  can  be- 
stow upon  his  Maker,  can  never  be  at  all  worthy  of  the 
great  Being  to  whom  they  are  addressed  :  they  must  al- 
ways be  obscured  by  the  imperfect  apprehensions,  and 
the  rising  affections  incident  to  the  human  mind  :  the 
taste  of  spiritual  things  is  greatly  vitiated  and  destroyed ; 
and  probably  the  sincerest  Christian,  whose  mind  is  the 
most  illuminated  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  will  still  find  in 
his  purest  and  most  perfect  devotions,  a  large  intermix- 
ture of  human  infirmity  and  folly. 


of  Moral  Duties.  115 

In  this  degraded  condition  of  the  soul  ot*  inaii,  banish- 
ed as  he  is  from  a  direct  communion  with  his  Creator, 
and  exposed  to  all  the  temptations  of  a  deceitful  world ; 
exposed  to  the  allurements  of  sensuality,  to  the  vain 
distractions  of  worldly  riches,  and  the  innumerable 
obstructions  which  lie  in  his  way  to  those  heavenly 
mansions  where  yet  he  hopes  to  find  rest  for  his  soul, 
what  a  beautiful  and  simple  path  is  still  opened  up  for 
him  by  the  goodness  of  God  !  "  /  xvill  have  mercy ^  and 
not  sacrifice.^'*  I  seek  not  from  man  what  he  cannot 
perform;  I  ask  not  praises  worthy  my  acceptance,  which 
he  never  can  bestow:  to  feel  his  distance,  "  to  walk 
humbly  with  his  God^''''  is  the  best  proof  he  can  give  of 
his  devotion  ;  but  surely  I  require  of  him  "  to  do  justly, 
and  to  love  mercy. ^"^ — And  it  is  a  most  beautiful  circum- 
stance, that  the  very  condition  of  human  nature,  which 
has  rendered  man  incapable  of  elevating  his  thoughts  to 
God  in  a  manner  at  all  suitable  to  the  dignity  of  the 
object,  has  opened  up  to  hini  the  widest  opportunity  for 
the  exercise  of  all  the  virtues  which  have  man  for  their 
object. 

In  what  scene,  so  well  as  in  this  world,  where  wick- 
edness and  misery  prevail,  can  the  virtues  of  justice  and 
of  charity  shine  with  their  brightest  lustre  ?  In  the 
regions  of  light,  where  God  is  fully  known,  the  fervour 
of  devotion  will  glow  intensely  ;  we  in  this  abode  of  sin 
and  darkness  can  be  enlightened  only  by  a  {<t\\  partial 
rays. — But  indignation  at  wrong  and  oppression  ;  a 
strong  feeling  of  what  is  due  to  man ;  compassion  for 
the  sufferings,  and  a  tender  interest  in  the  happiness  of 
our  fellow-creatures,  can  nowhere  be  learnt  so  well  as 
in  this  world,  where  tb.cse  virtues  are  so  necessary,  and 


1 16  The  Superior  Importance 

have  so  many  opportunities  for  exertion. — So  striking 
is  this  fact;  so  pecuHarly  adapted  is  this  world  to  be  the 
school  of  compassion,  and  of  that  character  of  virtue 
which  we  term  humanity,  that,  in  a  remarkable  passage 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  one  of  the  reasons  why 
the  Son  of  God  himself  is  said  to  have  assumed  our 
nature,  and  to  be  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  is, 
that  he  might  "  be  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infrmi- 
ties*^^  This,  then,  is  evidently  the  course  which  man 
ought  to  take,  to  perfect  himself,  in  as  far  as  he  can,  in 
those  virtuous  habits  which  his  situation  here  has  the 
greatest  tendency  to  produce,  without  aiming  prema- 
turely at  the  acquisition  of  endowments,  which  may  be 
reserved  to  complete  his  holiness  and  happiness  in  a 
higher  stage  of  existence. 

It  will  not,  I  hope,  be  inferred  from  any  thing  which 
has  now  been  said,  that  religious  exercises,  or  the 
duties  of  prayer  and  praise,  are  useless  and  insignifi- 
cant. On  the  contrary,  they  keep  alive  in  the  mind  a 
sense  of  the  divine  superintendence,  and  the  sentiment 
of  devotion.  All  that  I  wish  to  establish  is  this  im- 
portant truth,  that,  in  the  present  condition  of  our  na- 
ture, our  duty  to  God  is  best  performed  by  the  strict 
and  conscientious  discharge  of  our  duties  to  man  ;  by 
cultivating  every  right  affection,  and  promoting  the 
good  of  mankind  in  every  way. 

The  beauty  of  the  order  of  Providence  consists  in  this, 
that  the  soul  of  man  has  a  prospect,  indeed,  but  a  dark 
and  a  distant  one,  of  something  higher  awaiting  it  than 
any  thing  in  this  world  can  supply  ;  of  nobler  occupa- 
tions and  more  elevated  enjoyments;  of  a  nearer  appro- 
ximation to  the  source  from  which  it  proceeded,  the  eter- 


of  Moral  Duties.  117 

nal  fountain  of  all  existence.  This  is  the  distant  view 
which  it  becomes  us  to  keep  in  our  eye,  which  ought  to 
exalt  our  thoughts,  and  raise  them  above  every  thing 
mean,  despicable,  and  contrary  to  religious  purity.  But 
when,  attaching  our  thoughts  to  those  views,  or  to  any 
other  pious  meditations,  we  forget  our  present  condition, 
and  our  different  ties  and  connections  in  human  society, 
we  are  evidently  losing-  sight  of  the  path  before  us,  and 
which  alone  can  conduct  us  well  to  our  journey's  end. 
The  prospect  of  a  beautiful  land  for  the  termination  of 
our  journey,  is  no  doubt  delightful,  and  is  a  great  incite- 
ment for  keeping  us  steady  in  our  course;  but  when,  in- 
stead of  looking  at  the  road  on  which  we  must  travel, 
we  always  keep  our  eyes  on  the  country  \>'hit]ier  w^e 
are  going,  we  shall  be  in  great  danger  of  mistaking  our 
way. 

In  a  word,  it  will  appear,  that  every  attempt  to  be  re- 
ligious, which  does  not  rest  on  the  foundation  of  a  hum- 
ble endeavour  to  perform  our  duty  in  every  station  in 
which  we  are  placed,  rests  on  a  false  principle,  and  im- 
plies an  impertinent  and  vain-glorioui  flmiiliarity  widi 
the  Deity,  which,  of  all  beings,  it  least  becomes  man  to 
assume. 

We,  who  are  so  much  in  the  dark,  and  who,  from 
Christianity  itself,  have  received  only  some  mysterious 
intimations  concerning  the  divine  proceedings, — we,  of 
all  beings  who  exist,  ought  to  avoid  every  proud  and 
lofty  conceit  which  would  seem  to  exalt  us  above  the  sta- 
tion in  which  we  stand,  and  carry  us  away  from  the  hum- 
ble duties  incumbent  upon  us  as  men :  but  it  is  only 
^v'hen  we  attempt  to  be  religious  without  concerning 
ourselves  in  the  good  of  mankind,  that  our  religion  be- 
t 


118  The  Superioi^  Importance^  ^c. 

comes  useless,  or  positively  mischievous.  When  their 
natural  union  is  preserved,  the  love  of  God  and  the  love 
of  man  invigorate  each  other.  Glory  to  God  on  high, 
and  peace  and  good  will  to  men,  were  united  together 
in  the  song  of  the  angels,  and  ought  ever  to  be  in  the 
hearts  of  men. 


SERMON  XV. 

CON'XF.C'J'ION  or  MORALirY  AND  URLIGION. 


lir.BRKWS,  X.  38. 
"  J\'o7i'  the  just  sfiall  Iwe  by  faith.'''' 

JN  a  fornicr  discourse,  my  brethren,  I  enden- 
\  oiircd  to  shou  the  superior  importance  of  the  moral 
and  social  virtues,  over  those  rehgious  exercises,  or  de- 
vout meditations,  which  arc  unconnected  with  tlie  im- 
mediate intercourse  of  man  Vvith  man.  I  first  showed, 
that  as  the  leading  characteristic  of  the  divine  nature  is 
beneficence,  no  eniploymeijt  can  possibly  be  so  pleasing 
to  the  Deity  as  an  endeavour  to  promote  the  good  of  his 
creatures ;  and  that  tlie  noblest  proof  of  a  heart  attach- 
cd  to  his  service,  is  the  humble  imitation  of  his  greatest 
attribute.  But  flirther,  if  there  w-ere  any  doubt  upon 
this  subject,  when  considered  as  a  general  question, 
there  can  be  none  when  it  is  apjjlied  to  the  particular 
condition  of  man.  What  exercises  of  reli<rion,  or  what 
devotion  can  man  show,  which  are  not  ratiier  a  detrac- 
tion from  the  majesty  of  God,  than  a  tribute  of  praise 
worthy  of  his  acceptance  ?  and  \Ahat  greater  evidence 
of  the  divine  condescension,  than  that  he  permits  him- 
self to  be  addressed  or  contemplated  by  a  creature  so 


120  Connection  of  Morality 

weak  and  erroneous?  Yet,  in  the  condition  of  man, 
how  many  opportunities  are  there  for  the  highest  dis- 
play  of  every  social  virtue  ?  What  noble  exertions  of 
patriotism,  of  love,  of  friendship,  of  generosity,  and  of 
justice,  may  be  exhibited  amid  the  passing  scenes  of 
mortal  life  ?  and  what  theatre  can  we  imagine  so  ad- 
mirably adapted  as  this  world,  for  supplying  these  vir- 
tues with  every  opportunity  of  action  ? 

When  these  truths,  my  brethren,  impress  a  mind  in- 
structed  in  religious  principles,  they  will  guide  its  exer- 
tions in  the  best  course  ;  they  will  lead  its  devotion  into 
the  channel  of  beneficence ;  they  will  prevent  it  from 
giving  way  to  any  thing  dark  and  superstitious  in  reli- 
gion, and  will  supply  it  with  a  constant  source  of  acti- 
vity, of  cheerfulness,  and  of  honour.  There  is,  however, 
an  erroneous  view  of  this  subject,  which,  finding  a  ready 
assent  from  the  vanity  of  the  human  heart,  frequently 
leads  men  into  much  vice  and  misery,  while  it  flatters 
them  with  the  delusive  prospect  of  virtue  and  happi- 
ness. 

This  is  the  supposition  that  virtue  may  exist  inde- 
pendently of  religion  ;  that  the  thoughts  of  God  and  of 
futurity  rather  interrupt  than  promote  the  active  exer- 
tions of  man  ;   and  that  no  principle  can  have  so  strong 
an  influence  on  a  generous  mind,  as  the  love  of  virtue 
for  its  own  sake.     The  bosoms  of  the  young  are  pe- 
culiarly alive  to  this  splendid   representation  of  human 
nature.     The  stories  of  ancient  heroism  seem  to  attest 
its  truth ;  and  when  we  look  back  with  admiration  and 
reverence  to  those  illustrious  characters  which  shed  a 
glory  over  the  darkness  of  heathen  times,  we  are  some- 
limes  disposed  to  undervalue  that  light  of  immortality 


and  Religion.  121 

which  the  gospel  ushered  into  the  world.  We  turn  our 
eyes  from  the  pages  which  record  the  history  of  saints 
and  martyrs,  to  those  more  dazzling  narratives  which 
relate  the  actions  of  patriots  and  sages ;  and,  captivated 
with  the  splendour  of  human  virtue  in  its  natural  and 
unassisted  form,  we  are  sometimes  apt  to  treat  the  pre- 
tensions to  divine  illumination  as  fanaticism  and  folly. 

It  thus  not  unfrequently  happens,  that  the  young  are 
betrayed,  by  the  love  of  virtue  itself,  into  a  contempt 
for  those  principles  from  which  virtue  receives  its  best 
support ;  and  the  melancholy  consequence  too  often  is, 
that  when,  in  the  progress  of  life,  tlie  enthusiasm  of 
morality  subsides,  the  mind,  having  no  steady  founda- 
tion on  which  to  build,  is  delivered  over  to  the  sway  of 
every  accidental  passion.  It  is,  therefore,  my  brethren, 
of  importance  to  consider  that  great  religious  truth,  that 
the  true  foundation  of  virtue  is  faith  ;  that  it  is  "  bi/ 
faith  the  just  shall  live ;"  and  we  shall  thus  perceive  the 
error  of  those  opinions  which  represent  morality  as 
something  detached  from  religion. 

"  Faith  (according  to  the  definition  of  the  apostle  to 
the  Hebrews)  is  the  substance  of  things  lioped  for,  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen.'''*  Consider,  then,  first, 
morality  in  its  lowest  form ;  as  merely  a  collection  of 
rules  for  the  prudent  conduct  of  life  ;  as  requiring  no 
high  exertions  of  virtue,  but  recommending  only  a 
general  habit  of  inoftensiveness  and  humanity,  proper 
attention  to  our  worldly  concerns,  and  a  temperate  use 
of  the  enjoyments  of  life  :  perliaps  it  may  not  appear 
obvious,  that  even  this  lower  degree  of  morality,  when 
it  is  perse veringly  adhered  to  as  a  principle  of  action, 
has  its  fouuflation  in  a  species  of  religious  faith.     It  has 


122  Connection  of  Morality 

its  foundation  in  a  calm  and  attentive  survey  of  the  plan 
of  Providence  ;  in  recognizing  this  plan  to  be  good ; 
and  in  believing,  notwithstanding  many  contradictory 
appearances,  that  virtue  is  the  infallible  road  to  happi- 
ness. The  rewards,  indeed,  at  which  it  aims,  are 
merely  temporal ;  yet  thej'^  are  of  a  higher  order  than 
are  commonly  sought  after  by  the  w^orld.  They  are 
not  the  glitter  of  affluence,  nor  the  vanity  of  power ;  but 
they  are  the  solid  comforts  of  a  mind  at  peace  with 
mankind  and  with  itself.  To  perceive  the  superior 
excellence  of  such  rewards  to  the  common  objects  of 
human  estimation,  the  eye  of  finth  is  in  fact  required ; 
that  eye  which  looks  beyond  appearances ;  which,  amid 
the  glare  of  vulgar  delusion,  can  trace  the  finer  form  of 
real  good,  and  can  descry,  with  an  intuitive  assurance, 
future  compensation  to  be  the  consequence  of  present 
forbearance.  This  lowest  species  of  virtue,  when  it  is 
a  steady  and  regular  principle  of  conduct,  rests,  there- 
fore, upon  a  kind  of  observation  and  belief,  which,  if 
not  exactly  religion,  migiit  yet,  without  much  difficulty, 
be  improved  into  that  principle. 

But,  secondly,  when  we  reflect  on  some  of  the  higher 
characteristics  of  virtue,  characteristics  which,  to  the 
honour  of  human  nature,  are  to  be  traced  in  all  the 
various  aspects  of  society,  and  in  every  age  of  the  world, 
on  what  principle  do  we  suppose  are  they  founded  ? 
What  do  we  imagine  was  the  secret  spring  of  those 
heroic  exertions  which  we  contemplate  with  so  much 
admiration  in  the  history  of  antiquity  ?  What  was  the 
firm  foundation  on  which  they  rested  ?  W^ere  they  de- 
rived from  the  declamations  of  the  schools  concerning 
tlie  chief  good,  from  glowing  pictures  of  the  beauty  of 


and  ReligioJi.  15!T 

virtue,  or  any  transient  enthusiasm  ofphilosoplnc  minds? 
They  were  the  natural  effects  of  that  principle  in  the 
soul  of  man  which  aims  at  something  higher  and  nobler 
than  the  vulgar  pursuits  or  pleasures  of  the  world, 
which  feels  the  native  dignity  of  the  human  mind,  and 
which,  even  amid  the  clouds  of  heathen  darkness,  could 
find  the  link  that  binds  earth  to  heaven.  In  this  view, 
there  cannot  be  a  finer  or  more  improving  subject  of 
meditation  than  the  lives  of  the  really  good  men  in  the 
heathen  world  :  there  cannot  be  a  finer  exemplification 
of  sound  and  steady  principle  struggling  with  difficulty 
and  darkness,  or  of  that  firm  assurance  and  faith  which, 
in  spite  of  the  most  opposite  appearances,  leads  the 
virtuous  to  repose  in  the  appointments  of  Providence, 
while  they  are  pursuing  their  high  but  arduous  career. 

That  the  virtue  of  these  illustrious  men  received  its 
firmness  an.d  stability  from  religious  principle,  may 
appear  among  other  things  from  the  reverence  and 
regard  which  the  best  and  wisest  among  them  paid  to 
the  religious  institutions  of  their  eountrj'.  T'hose  insti- 
tutions were  bad,  and  gave  support  to  the  most  lament- 
able superstitions ;  yet  they  were  the  best  with  which 
men  were  then  acquainted ;  and  it  is  pleasing  to  consider 
how  much  religious  wisdom  was  still  acquired,  under 
all  these  disadvantages,  by  the  virtuous  and  contem- 
plative. 

There  cannot,  then,  be  a  more  grievous  mistake,  than 
to  suppose  that  the  great  characters  of  ancient  times  are 
in  any  respect  exemplifications  of  the  separation  of  vir- 
tue from  religion  :  they  are  perhaps,  on  the  contrary, 
more  striking  instances  than  even  the  history  of  Chris- 
tianity can  supply,  of  the  close  and  intimate  union  be- 


124  (Connection  of  Morality 

tween  these  principles  ;  they  are  instances  of  the  mighty 
effects  which  were  produced  by  concentrating  and  che- 
rishing the  weak  and  scattered  rays  of  rehgion  then 
spread  over  the  earth  :  tlrey  are  instances  of  men  acting 
with  firmness  and  resolution  on  the  imperfect  principles 
which  they  at  that  time  possessed  ;  holding  on  in  their 
course  with  unconquerable  spirits ;  or,  in  the  language 
of  one  of  their  own  poets*,  maintaining  the  integrity  and 
stability  of  an  upright  mind,  even  amidst  the  ruins  of  a 
falling  world. 

Having  thus,  my  brethren,  endeavoured  to  show,  that 
a  principle  nearly  allied  to  religious  faith  has  really  at  all 
times  been  the  foundation  of  true  virtue,  it  surely  will 
not  be  necessary  to  prove  that  our  religion  opens  up  the 
noblest  prospects  which  can  possibly  be  presented  to  the 
soul  of  man.  It  opens  up  the  boundless  prospect  of 
eternity  ;  it  holds  out  to  the  eye  of  virtue  never-fading 
rewards ;  and  calls  upon  man  to  be  strenuous  in  every 
worthy  pursuit,  if  he  would  contend  for  the  crown  of 
everlasting  life.  It  points  to  those  heavenly  mansions 
where  the  good  of  every  age  shall  meet  after  this  world 
has  passed  away.  It  points  to  that  gracious  Saviour 
who  has  gone  before  us,  and,  who  will,  on  that  day,  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  all  faces.  It  points  to  the  eternal 
Father  of  existence,  into  whose  presence  we  shall  be  ad- 
vanced, and  who  will  smile  with  unclouded  beneficence 
on  his  assembled  children  ! 

Such  are  the  lofty  prospects  which  Christianity  places 
before  us  as  the  final  consummation  of  a  virtuous  life  ; 

*  Si  fractus  illabatur  orbis 
Impavidum  fcrient  ruins. — Hou. 


and  Religion.  125 

prospects  winch  remove  the  veil  from  the  face  of  Pro- 
vidence, and  place  the  whole  plan  of  God  in  a  clear  and 
obvious  light. 

How  beautifully  such  prospects  encourage  and  esta- 
blish the  virtue  of  man,  will  appear  chiefly,  if  we  con- 
sider with  what  facility  they  accommodate  themselves 
to  all  die  varying  circumstances  and  conditions  of  hu- 
n^an  life.  The  greatest  and  most  prosperous  man  can- 
not pretend  that  he  is  above  them ;  the  poorest  feels  that 
he  is  ennobled  by  them,  and  that  they  lift  him  from  the 
dust.  They  check  the  presumption  of  the  one,  and 
elevate  the  soul  of  the  other.  They  at  once  sweep  away 
all  the  petty  distinctions  of  human  life,  and  open  the 
view  of  that  path  which  all  men  equally  are  concerned 
to  tread.  Religious  instruction  alone  is  equally  applica- 
ble to  all  descriptions  of  men.  It  is  heard  by  the  king 
upon  the  throne.  It  visits  the  obscurity  of  the  cottage. 
It  encourages  the  poor  man  to  cultivate  every  good  prin- 
ciple of  action,  as  well  as  the  man  of  exalted  rank  ;  to 
aim  at  the  possession  of  true  nobility  of  mind  ;  and  as- 
sures him  that  he  too  shall  reap  his  reward,  if  he  faint 
not. 

What  then,  my  brethren,  can  be  so  sure  or  univei'sal 
a  foundation  for  any  scheme  of  regular  and  consistent 
virtue,  as  that  '^  faith  by  which  the  just  shall  livcP^  and 
how  greaUy  does  it  become  us,  to  "  holdfast  the  form 
of  sound  words  which  joe  have  heard,  in  faith  and  lovi- 
■which  is  in  Christ  Jesus?''' 


SERMON  XVl. 

THE  SAME  SUBJECT  ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  CHA- 
RACTER OF  THE  GOOD  CENTURION. 


MATTHEW,  viii.  8. 

*'  The  centurion  answered  and  said,  Lordy  I  am  ?iot 
xvorthy  that  thou  shouldst  come  under  my  roof;  but 
speak  the  rvord  only,  and  my  servant  shall  be  healed.^"* 

THERE  are  few  circumstances,  in  the  writings 
of  the  sacred  historians,  more  useful  or  important,  tlian 
those  occasional  incidents  which  they  have  related  con- 
cerning the  conduct  and  characters  of  men,  who  had  no 
immediate  connection  with  the  mission  of  our  Saviour. 
In  such  instances,  we  can  trace  most  easily  the  natural 
operation  of  virtue  or  vice  upon  the  human  heart.  In 
the  character  of  our  Lord  himself,  however  beautifully 
it  is  softened  down  to  the  weakness  of  man,  and  how- 
ever natural  it  appears  in  the  midst  of  its  perfection, 
there  is  yet  a  height  and  a  purity  of  principle  which  we 
can  but  faintly  comprehend,  and  much  more  faintly 
imitate.  In  the  characters  of  the  apostles  we  discover, 
indeed,  very  distinctly,  the  usual  tendencies  both  of  vir- 
tue  and  of  vice,  by  which  the  heart  of  man  is  influ- 
enced ;  yet  the  sphere  of  action  in  which  they  were  en- 
gaged was  so  singular  and  lofty,  that  we  are  apt  to  class 


Connection  of  Morality,  &fc.  127 

them  in  our  imaginations  with  a  higher  order  of  be- 
ings, and,  in  the  splendour  of  their  supernatural  endow- 
ments, to  lose  sight  of  that  common  nature  by  which 
we  are  connected  with  them. 

It  is  with  such  characters  as  the  centurion  in  the  text 
that  we  can  most  readily  compare  ourselves ;  men  en- 
gaged in  the  common  professions,  and  exercising  the 
common  duties  of  life,  whose  religious  impressions 
were  derived  from  no  miraculous  call,  and  who  were 
rather  spectators  of  the  great  scheme  of  divine  Provi- 
dence, at  that  time  transacting  in  the  world,  than  them- 
selves  actively  engaged  in  carrying  it  on.  The  inci- 
dent recorded  in  the  gospel  for  this  day*  naturally 
leads  me  to  make  some  reflections  on  the  character  of 
that  excellent  person  to  whom  I  have  now  alluded  ;  a 
character  simple  and  unpretending,  but  in  the  highest 
degree  estimable,  and  which  drew  from  him,  to  whom 
the  human  heart  was  known,  that  noble  and  sublime 
encomium,  that  he  had  "  not  found  so  great  faiths  no^ 
not  in  Israel.'*'^ 

The  leading  feature  in  the  mind  of  this  worthy  man 
seems  to  have  been  fairness  or  honesty,  which  equally 
influenced  him  in  the  conduct  of  his  understanding,  and 
in  the  regulation  of  his  life.  The  faith  which  our  Sa- 
viour commends  in  him  so  highly  was  plainly  the 
result  of  this  disposition.  As  a  Roman  citizen,  he  must 
have  been  disposed  to  look  with  indifference,  if  not 
with  contempt,  on  the  religious  sects  and  opinions  of  a 
conquered  people ;  and  nothing  but  that  honest  love  of 
truth,  which  seems  to  have  been  the  guiding  principle 

*  Third  Sunday  afier  the  Epiphany. 


128  Connection  of  Morality 

of  his  understanding,  could  have  prompted  him  to  in- 
quire into  the  foundation  of  the  reports  in  circulation, 
concerning;  the  character  and  the  miracles  of  Christ. 
Wlien  he  made  the  inquiry,  he  appears  to  have  conduct- 
ed it  with  much  coolness  and  deliberation ;  and  the 
firm  persuasion  in  which  it  terminated,  was  established 
in  his  mind  by  a  natural  process  of  reasoning,  derived 
from  the  habits  of  his  own  life.  He  himself,  he  knew, 
was  a  man  under  authority,  having  soldiers  under  Iiim  ; 
and,  likening  the  great  government  of  the  world  to  that 
little  part  of  it  with  which  he  was  conversant,  he  now 
believed  that, he  had  found  the  chosen  minister  of  hea- 
ven, to  whom  all  authority  was  committed  over  nature 
and  man. 

While  the  faith  of  this  remarkable  person  was  thus 
cautious  and  deliberate,  it  yet  seems  to  have  rested  on 
no  superfluous  or  impertinent  curiosity.  We  have  no 
reason  to  suppose,  from  the  sacred  historians,  that  he 
had  himself  witnessed  any  of  our  Lord's  wonderful 
works,  or  that  he  had  so  much  as  seen  him  till  he  went 
to  implore  his  assistance  for  the  relief  of  his  servant. 
The  fluth,  therefore,  in  which  his  mind  reposed,  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  of  that  overwhelming  nature 
which  could  not  be  resisted :  it  was  not  the  faith  of  the 
eyes  ;  but  it  was  more, — it  was  the  faith  of  the  under- 
standing and  of  the  heart. 

The  strength  of  his  faith,  indeed,  from  these  sources, 
seems  rather  to  have  made  him  avoid  the  opportunity 
of  having  any  direct  intercourse  with  our  Saviour.  He 
was  satisfied  with  hearing  of  him  and  worshipping  him 
at  a  distance  ;  he  felt  himself  unworthy  that  so  great  a 
person  should  come  undqr  his  roof;  and,. had  not  the 


and  Religion.  129 

call  of  humanity  at  last  forced  him  to  break  through  his 
restraint,  it  is  probable  that  the  humility  of  his  mind 
would  have  still  kept  him  from  entering  into  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Master  whom  in  secret  he  served.  It  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  then,  my  brethren,  that,  when 
our  Lord  had  conversed  with  this  good  centurion,  he 
should  have  spoken  of  him  with  such  distinguished 
approbation ;  or  that,  when  he  contrasted  the  genuine 
and  self-taught  faith  of  this  unenlightened  heathen  with 
the  blind  and  unconquerable  incredulity  of  the  chosen 
people  of  God,  he  should  indeed  have  said,  that  he  had 
**  not  found  so  great  faiths  no^  not  in  Israel.^"* 

It  is  not,  however,  the  greatness  of  the  centurion's 
faith  that  is  alone  admirable.  The  same  just  and  cor- 
rect feelings  which  prompted  his  belief,  freed  it  like- 
wise from  every  thing  enthusiastic  or  extravagant.  He 
had  faith  enough  certainly  to  have  become  an  apostle, 
and  he  could  have  followed  his  Lord  into  prison  or  to 
death.  But  to  this  office  he  was  not  called,  and  his 
humility  forbade  him  to  aspire.  A  mind  less  duly 
regulated  might,  in  his  circumstances,  have  formed  the 
splendid  purpose  of  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  gen- 
tiles ;  but  his  qualifications,  he  knew,  were  of  a  differ- 
ent description,  and  the  line  of  his  duty  had  already 
been  marked  out  by  Providence.  He  was  the  master  of 
a  family,  and,  in  this  capacity,  had  many  private  duties 
to  perform.  He  had  likewise  a  public  situation  ;  "  he 
was  a  man  under  authority^  having  soldiers  under  him;^^ 
and,  in  the  faithful  discharge  of  the  duties  which  this 
office  imixjsed  upon  him,  he  felt  he  could  be  of  more 
essential  service  to  his  country  and  to  mankind,  than 
by  starting  out  into  a  sphere  for  \\'hich  he  was  not 

R 


130  Connection  of  Morality 

qualified  by  his  previous  habits.  After  having  obtained 
from  our  Lord,  therefore,  a  favourable  answer  to  his 
request,  he  immediately  returns  to  the  duties  which  he 
had  left  behind  him ;  he  is  no  more  mentioned  in  the 
history  of  our  religion ;  his  name  even  is  unknown,  like 
the  names  of  innumerable  worthy  individuals  which  are 
nowhere  preserved  in  the  records  of  men,  but  which 
are  written  in  the  books  of  God. 

How  well  the  humble  duties  of  his  station  were  per- 
formed ;  how  admirably  the  character  of  his  life  cor- 
responded with  his  religious  impressions  ;  how  plainly 
the  same  principle  of  a  conscientious  and  honest  mind 
led  to  both,  will  appear  evidently  from  the  short  notices 
of  his  private  history  which  the  evangelists  have  left 
us.  It  is  evident,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  his  own  public  duty,  and  enforced  the 
performance  of  their  duty  upon  others.  "  I  am  a  man 
under  authority  (says  he),  having  soldiers  under  me^  and 
I  say  unto  this  man,  Go,  and  he  goeth  ;  and  to  another , 
Come,  and  he  cometh ;  and  to  my  servant,  Do  this, 
and  he  doeth  it.^^  He  was,  therefore,  deserving  of  trust 
in  a  public  station ;  orderly  and  active  in  having  the  bu- 
siness of  it  performed ;  and  employing  those  only  on 
whose  obedience  and  alacrity  he  could  depend. 

While  he  was  thus  steady  in  enforcing  the  obedience 
of  those  under  his  authority,  his  kindness  and  humanity 
is  equally  apparent.  His  authority  was  strict,  but  it  was 
merciful  and  compassionate.  Nothing  can  be  a  plainer 
proof  of  this  than  the  interest  which  he  took  in  the  sick- 
ness of  his  servant.  We  often  hear  in  the  Gospels  of 
men  applying  to  our  Lord  for  the  relief  of  their  own  in- 
firmities, or  those  of  their  near  relations,  but,  perhaps, 


and  Religion.  131 

this  is  the  single  instance  of  a  similar  application  being 
made  in  the  case  of  a  servant.  "  And  this  (as  is  well 
observed  by  a  venerable  prelate*)  is  the  more  remark- 
able, and  the  more  honourable  to  the  centurion,  be- 
cause, in  general,  the  treatment  which  the  servants  of 
the  Romans  experienced  from  their  masters,  was  very- 
different  indeed  from  what  we  see  in  the  present  in- 
stance. These  servants  were  almost  all  of  them  slaves, 
and  were  too  commonly  treated  with  extreme  rigour 
and  cruelty.  They  were  often  strained  to  labour  be- 
yond their  strength  ;  were  confined  to  loathsome  dun- 
geons ;  were  loaded  with  chains ;  were  scourged  and 
tortured  without  reason  ;  were  deserted  in  sickness  and 
old  age ;  and  put  to  death  for  trivial  faults  and  slight 
suspicions,  and  sometimes  out  of  mere  wantonness  and 
cruelty.  Such  barbarity  as  this,  which  was  at  that  time 
by  no  means  uncommon,  forms  a  most  striking  contrast 
to  the  kindness  and  compassion  of  the  centurion,  who, 
though  he  had  so  much  power  over  his  slaves,  and  so 
many  instances  of  its  severest  exertion  before  his  eyes, 
made  use  of  it,  as  we  here  see,  not  for  their  oppression 
and  destruction,  but  their  happiness,  comfort,  and  pre- 
servation." 

A  more  public  instance  of  this  man's  worth  is  men- 
tioned by  St.  Luke.  In  his  relation  of  the. same  in- 
cident, we  are  informed,  that,  *'  when  the  centurion 
heard  of  Jesus,  he  sent  unto  him  the  elders  of  the  Jews, 
beseeching  him  that  he  would  come  and  heal  his  servant. 
And  when  they  came  to  Jesus^  they  besought  him  in- 
stantlyy  saying,  that  he  was  worthy  for  whom  he  should 

*  Bishop  of  London's  Lectures. 


132  ConnectioJt  of  Morality 

do  this  ;  for  he  loveth  our  nation,  and  he  hath  built  us  a 
synagogue.''^  There  is  something  very  striking  in  this 
circumstance.  The  centurion,  a  Roman  soldier,  loved 
the  nation  of  the  Jews,  a  people  whom  the  Romans  held 
in  contempt  and  abhorrence.  It  does  not  at  all  appear  that 
he  himself  had  become  a  cor^vert  to  the  Jewish  religion. 
Although  his  mind  had  been  deeply  impressed  by  the 
character  and  the  actions  of  Christ,  it  is  likely  that  he 
never  thought  of  examining  the  pretensions  of  the  Mo- 
saic law.  This,  however,  was  the  religion  of  the  peo- 
ple among  whom  he  resided,  and  over  whom  he  exer- 
cised a  command,  and,  as  such,  he  protected  and  en- 
couraged it.  It  appears  that,  although  a  gentile,  he  in 
return  gained  their  affections  ;  "  he  is  worthy  (said  they) 
for  whom  thou  shouldest  do  this  ;  for  he  loveth  our  na^ 
tion,  and  he  hath  built  us  a  synagogue.'''*  No  more  ho- 
nourable testimony  could  be  brought  to  the  distinguish, 
ed  integrity  and  benevolence  of  this  conscientious  man ; 
and  no  more  beautiful  proof  can  be  found,  that  genuine 
goodness  will  conquer  the  most  stubborn  prejudices; 
will  overleap  the  distinctions  of  sect  or  country  ;  and, 
in  whatever  spot  of  the  earth  it  is  placed,  will  find  the 
tie  which  connects  it  with  the  great  brotherhood  of  man- 
kind, and  will  gain,  in  return,  that  reward  which  it  best 
loves,  the  cordial  gratitude  of  those  whom  it  protects 
and  fosters. 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  a  very  imperfect  sketch  of  the 
character  of  this  good  centurion.  It  is  a  character  un- 
doubtedly uncommon,  yet  it  is  one  which  is  easily  open 
to  the  imitation  of  every  human  being.  In  order  to  at- 
tain it,  no  splendid  abilities  are  requisite,  no  high  exer- 
tions.    It  is  simply  the  character  of  a  man  who  is  stea- 


and  Religion .  133 

dily  attentive  to  the  voice  of  conscience,  who,  in  obe- 
dience to  that  voice  regulates  his  rehgious  impressions, 
and  forms  the  conduct  of  his  life.  It  is  a  character 
therefore  highly  deserving  our  most  serious  attention. 
In  the  faith  of  the  centurion,  you  see  the  natural  result 
of  this  fairness  of  mind  exerted  upon  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion. You  see  it  contemplating,  with  just  apprecia- 
tion, those  appearances  which  were  presented  to  it;  rea- 
soning, indeed,  but  reasoning  with  simplicity;  not  seek- 
ing to  overpower  the  evidence  on  which  it  commented 
by  injurious  sophistry,  but  rather  satisfied  with  less 
evidence  than  it  could  easily  have  attained.  You  see 
this  steady  and  sound  faith,  leading  its  possessor  to  no 
wandering  or  enthusiastic  fanaticism ;  not  calling  him 
to  desert  the  unnoticed  duties  of  common  life :  send- 
ing him  back,  on  the  contrary,  to  fill  his  station  in  so- 
ciety with  new  and  redoubled  vigour,  and  comforting 
him  with  the  sublime  thought,  that  in  the  most  private 
offices  of  humanity,  as  well  as  in  the  greatest  and  most 
conspicuous,  he  might  still  be  *'  a  fellow  xvorker  with 
God.'*^  In  the  life  of  the  centurion,  you  see  the  inse- 
parable connection  between  faith  and  works,  or  the  same 
principle  of  conscience  which  guided  his  understanding 
to  truth,  regulating  every  department  of  his  conduct. 
You  see  these  tilings,  my  brethren,  and  they  are 
given  to  you  as  an  example,  and  they  call  upon  you  to 
**  go  and  do  likewise,'''' 

I  shall  only  observe,  in  conclusion,  that  our  advan- 
tages are  in  some  respects  superior  to  those  possessed 
by  the  good  centurion.  His  early  years  were  passed 
under  the  darkness  of  idolatry,  and  it  was  only  after  he 
was  advanced  in  life  that  his  eyes  were  opened  to  that 


134  t^onnection  of  Morality ^  &fc. 

"  light  which  has  come  into  the  rvorld.^^  We  indeed 
have  been  accounted  unworthy  (as  he  had  the  humility 
to  esteem  himself)  that  our  Lord  should  enter  under  our 
roofs ;  but  from  the  period  of  our  infancy  we  have  been 
in  possession  of  those  words  which  have  conveyed  the 
voice  of  healing  to  ourselves  and  our  houses.  Let  us, 
my  brethren,  profit  as  we  ought  from  this  advantage, 
that  we  may  not  be  numbered  among  *'  those  children 
of  the  kingdom  who  shall  be  cast  out  into  outer  dark' 
ness,"  but  among  that  innumerable  multitude  "  which 
shall  come  from  the  east  and  from  the  west^  and  shall  sit 
down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  /'* 


SERMON  XVII. 

ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  AS  IT  INFLUENCES  OUR 
JUDGMENTS  OF  EACH  OTHER. 


MATTHEW,  vii.  1. 

*'  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged."*^ 

THE  great  law  of  Christian  charity  is  both  too 
little  understood,  and  too  little  practised.  Men  will 
not  so  far  enlarge  their  minds»  as  to  acknowledge  its 
beauty  and  excellence ;  but,  contemplating  the  vices 
which  prevail  in  the  world,  they  are  apt  to  believe  that 
charity  to  the  offenders  is  nothing  but  weakness.  In 
our  practice,  it  is  evident  that  we  are  constantly  liable 
to  magnify  our  own  good  qualities,  and  to  look  with  too 
great  abhorrence  on  the  imperfections  of  others.  In- 
deed so  vain  a  creature  is  man,  that  there  is  scarcely 
any  quality,  however  insignificant,  that  will  not  help  to 
raise  him  in  his  own  conceit ;  while  there  are  scarcely 
any  virtues  so  transcendent  and  estimable,  that  will 
secure  his  neighbour  from  becoming  the  object  of  his 
hasty  censures. 

It  is  my  view  at  present  to  point  out  the  reasonable- 
ness  and  excellence  of  charity,  and  then  to  enforce  the 
practice  of  this  virtue.    Let  us  then,  my  brethren,  begin 


136  On  Christian  Charity, 

with  considering  those  aspects  of  human  nature  which 
present  themselves  to  us,  wherever  we  throw  our  eyes 
over  this  wonderful  world.  We  everywhere  behold  a 
being  beginning  in  helplessness  and  weakness,  smiling 
on  the  looks  of  maternal  affection,  or  crying  from  the 
early  sense  of  misery.  This  creature  unfolds  its  facul- 
ties with  its  years ;  and  before  it  well  knows  where  it  is, 
the  seeds  of  vice  have  been  scattered  in  its  soul.  In 
some  happy  minds,  the  generous  shoots  of  virtue,  the 
early  blossoms  of  wisdom,  rise  with  beautiful  regularity 
over  the  weeds  which  entangle  their  progress ;  but  the 
human  character  in  general  is  a  disorderly  scene,  run- 
ning wild  into  extravagant  passions,  or  cold,  barren, 
and  unfruitful. 

Yet,  in  however  sad  a  condition,  into  whatever  dis- 
order man  is  thrown,  he  still  retains  some  vestiges  of 
his  high  original,  and  never  seems  entirely  lost  to  the 
sense  of  good.  When  he  is  a  martyr  to  vice,  he  hangs 
his  head,  and  blushes  with  the  consciousness  which 
oppresses  him ;  and  if  he  should  be  unable  to  cast  off 
the  yoke,  he  yet  shows  that  it  is  grievous  to  be  borne. 
The  most  shameless  characters  will,  in  general,  be 
found  to  be  those  who  have  had  the  least  opportunity  of 
knowing  what  is  good  ;  who,  from  the  misfortunes  of 
theif  childhood,  have  been  thrown  loose  upon  society, 
and  accustomed  from  their  earliest  years  to  low  and 
degenerate  infamy.  Indeed,  on  whatever  forms  of  vice 
we  fix  our  attention,  something  will  occur  to  palliate  ; 
no  man  will  appear  radically  and  innately  bad ;  and  the 
race  of  men  in  general  will  seem  rather  to  be  labouring 
under  a  heavy  misfortune,  than  to  be  the  objects  of 
unrelenting  vengeance. 


On  Chtistian  Charity.  137 

If  then,  my  brethren,  we  could  assume  the  station  of 
some  superior  being,  qualified  to  sit  as  judge  on  man, 
himself  exempt  from  human  weaknesses,  and  only  the 
spectator  of  human  conduct,  even  from  such  a  station 
we  could  scarcely  look  down  on  this  poor  mortal  crea- 
ture with  any  other  emotions  than  those  of  tenderness 
and  pity.  True  :  we  should  be  astonished  with  the 
view  of  extravagant  folly  ;  we  should  be  shocked  with 
the  sight  of  detestable  guilt ;  we  should  be  confounded 
with  seeing  a  creature  formed  to  be  good  and  liappy, 
immersing  itself  in  depravity,  and  running  headlong  to 
destruction.  Yet  there  would  be  always  something  in 
man  which  would  make  pity  predominate  ;  and  when 
we  gazed  in  horror  at  the  hardened  ruffian,  dealing  in 
blood  and  breathing  fury,  we  should  still  recollect  the 
innocent  playfulness  of  the  same  creature,  while  yet  a 
child  in  its  mother's  arms. 

Such  seems  to  be  the  aspect  in  which  man  has  ap- 
peared to  the  great  Being  from  whom  he  originally  pro- 
ceeded, and,  who,  notwithstanding  all  his  wanderings, 
has  yet  not  discarded  for  ever  this  prodigal  son.  Some 
beings,  we  are  told,  of  a  higher  nature  than  ours,  have 
lost  themselves  so  far,  and  have  been  guilty  of  such 
flagrant  disobedience,  that  the  Almighty  has  abandoned 
them  to  destruction.  But  to  man  an  extraordinary 
rescue  has  been  granted,  and  the  most  compassionate 
of  all  Beings  has  been  sent  into  the  world,  to  instruct, 
to  comfort,  and  to  die  for  him.  Solicitations  and  en- 
treaties have  been  made  to  call  in  the  greatest  sinners ; 
and  no  human  being  appears  too  mean  and  despicable 
to  receive  the  offer  of  heaven  and  of  eternal  happiness. 

s 


138  On  Christian  C/iarity. 

Such  is  man  in  the  eye  of  God  ;  what,  then  ought  he 
to  be  in  the  eye  of  man  ?  Wilt  thou  pretend  to  des- 
pise him  whom  God  esteems  so  highly  ?  and  wilt  thou 
judge  harshly  of  the  brother,  for  whom  Christ  has 
died  ?  If  superior  beings  were  to  regard  the  vices  of 
man  with  detestation  merely,  unmixed  with  pity  ;  if 
God  were  to  leave  him  to  his  own  devices,  and  to  that 
destruction  which  he  so  often  seems  to  court,  what  an- 
swer could  be  made,  and  who  should  dare  to  arraign  the 
justice  of  the  Most  High  ?  But  thou,  O  man,  who  art 
thyself  spotted  with  iniquity,  wilt  diou  pretend  to  look 
Avith  cold  and  contemptuous  severity  on  the  failings  of 
thy  brother?  When  God  himself  has  consented  to 
sink  his  indignation  against  sin  in  his  pity  for  the  of- 
fender; when  the  good  angels  look  down  upon  their 
earthly  brethren  with  kind  wishes  for  their  success,  and 
with  sorrow  for  their  failings,  wilt  thou,  who  thyself 
requirest  all  this  mercy  and  pity,  fix  upon  any  one  of 
the  human  race  a  severe  or  contemptuous  eye  ?  I 
know  what  thou  wilt  say,  that  thou  art  not  as  other  men 
are,  extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers,  or  even  as  this 
publican  :  thou  fastest  Xw  ice  in  the  week  ;  thou  givest 
tythes  of  all  that  thou  possessest :  yet  the  publican, 
who  standeth  afar  off,  and  will  not  lift  up  so  much  as 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  but  smiteth  on  his  breast,  saying, 
God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner ;  this  man  will  go 
down  to  his  house  justified  rather  than  thou. 

Indeed,  my  brethren,  the  circumstance,  which  is 
one  of  the  fundamental  tenets  of  Christianity,  that 
every  man  is  a  sinner, — this  circumstance  affords  an 
unanswerable  argument  for  mutual  charity  and  forbear- 
ance,  and  ought  to  dispose  every  one  to  judge  as  fa- 


On  Christian  Charity »  139 

vourably  of  his  neighbour  as  he  possibly  can.  If  I 
have  been  guilty  of  innumerable  vices ;  have  every 
day  done  those  things  which  I  ought  not  to  have  done, 
and  left  undone  those  things  which  I  ought  to  have 
done  ;  is  it  at  all  to  be  tolerated,  that,  instead  of  being 
afflicted  for  my  own  transgressions,  I  should  pore  upon 
those  of  my  surrounding  brethren  ?  Am  I,  who  have 
myself  a  corrupted  nature,  whose  judgment  is  vitiated 
by  disorderly  passions,  who  have  a  kind  of  unnatural 
satisfaction  in  discovering  the  vices  of  others,  that  I 
may  appear  more  perfect  in  my  own  eyes ;  am  I,  in 
any  respect,  a  competent  judge  of  the  real  merits  of  any 
one  of  mankind  ?  Some  subordinate  judgments,  in- 
deed, we  must  form,  sufficient  to  guide  us  in  our  con- 
duct among  men  ;  we  must  learn  whom  to  consort 
with,  and  whom  to  avoid  ;  the  nature  of  society  re- 
quires that  we  should  be  separated  into  nations,  and 
parties,  and  sects  ;  and  the  purest  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity will  always  be  found  to  accommodate  themselves 
to  the  state  of  the  world  in  which  we  live.  But,  in  all 
our  judgments  and  decisions  upon  men,  we  must  never 
proceed  beyond  what  is  plain  and  apparent ;  we  must 
not  too  finely  trace  the  outward  qualities  to  their  radical 
recesses  in  tlie  heart,  nor  pretend  to  say  any  thing  of 
the  soul,  that  sacred  and  immortal  thing,  which  spurns 
at  the  judgments  of  men,  while  it  trembles  before  those 
of  God. 

On  this  subject,  my  brethren,  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  avoid  touching  on  a  point  which  has  occasioned  more 
want  of  charity  than  perhaps  any  other  in  the  world  :  I 
mean  religious  dissentions.  And  yet  it  is  strange,  that 
religious  men  should  split  upon  this  rock,  when  they 


140  On  Christian  Charity, 

are  expressly  told,  that  "  charity  is  the  end  of  the  com- 
mandment.^^ This  malignant  spirit  is  supported  by  a 
sort  of  reasoning,  which,  at  first  sight,  seems  abundant- 
ly conclusive,  but  which,  if  it  were  just,  would  be  ex- 
actly the  strongest  thing  that  could  be  urged  against  re- 
ligion, since  nothing  can  bring  religion  into  so  much 
discredit,  with  men  of  good  sense  and  hearts,  as  the 
dark  and  gloomy  spirit  which  sometimes  seems  to  in- 
spire its  adherents.  The  sort  of  reasoning  alluded  to  is 
this  : — there  are  certain  doctrines  urged  in  scripture  as 
necessary  points  of  faith ;  some  men  retain  these,  and 
others  lose  sight  of  them ;  and  the  believers,  according- 
ly, think  themselves  entided  to  reprobate  those  who  err 
from  the  true  creed.  But  this  fearless  kind  of  reason- 
ing rests  entirely  on  the  idea,  that  a  point  of  faith  is  of 
any  consequence  whatever,  while  it  continues  an  empty 
speculation  in  the  head,  without  producing  a  due  effect 
on  the  heart  and  dispositions ;  an  idea  the  most  wild  and 
extravagant.  As  if  the  Author  of  our  religion  had  any 
desire  to  make  us  very  skilful  and  knowing,  in  respect 
to  the  world  of  spirits,  and  did  not  merely  inform  us  of 
those  things,  the  knowledge  of  which  might  render  us 
better  men.  Whatever  points  of  faith,  then,  we  may 
have  attained,  let  us  never  presume  to  think  ourselves 
above  those  to  whom  these  things  may  yet  be  hidden, 
unless  we  are  conscious  of  some  real  improvement  in 
our  lives,  corresponding  to  the  faith  which  we  have  at- 
tained. On  the  contrary,  let  us  rather  confess,  with  hu- 
miliation, how  little  influence  our  faith  has  upon  our 
lives ;  and,  instead  of  being  ready  to  condemn  those 
who  differ  in  belief  from  ourselves,  let  us  rather  fear, 


On  Christian  Charity.  141 

that,  at  the  great  day  of  reckoning,  we  may  be  found  to 
have  believed  more,  and  yet  to  have  performed  less. 

The  only  objection  which,  as  I  conceive,  can  be 
urged  with  any  plausibility  against  all  this  doctrine  is, 
that  it  tends  to  throw  too  great  laxity  into  our  moral 
judgments,— that  it  detracts  from  the  dignity  of  virtue, 
and  may  loosen  the  foundations  of  faith.  For  it  may  be 
said,  that  if  we  acquire  a  habit  of  being  gentle  to  the 
vices  of  others,  we  shall  certainly  be  more  ready  to  pass 
but  a  slight  censure  on  our  own ;  and  if  we  do  not  pur- 
sue improper  opinions  with  an  indignant  zeal,  we  shall 
be  too  apt  to  lose  our  ardour  in  the  cause  of  religion. 

Now,  it  must  certainly  be  granted,  that  a  man  may 
very  possibly  fall  into  an  indolent  unconcern  about  all 
principle  whatever ;  and  that,  in  this  state  of  mind,  he 
may  conceive  himself  to  be  very  charitably  disposed 
towards  all  the  errors  in  human  conduct  or  opinion, 
when  he  is  only  very  indifferent  about  what  men  either 
think  or  do.  But  this  defect  in  moral  principle  is  not 
charity  ;  for  that  eminent  quality  will  always  be  found 
to  exist  in  the  highest  perfection  in  the  minds  of  those 
whose  virtue  is  the  most  pure.  Such  men  do  not  shut 
their  eyes  on  the  vices  of  others,  or  look  on  those  vices 
with  indifference  and  unconcern.  They  condemn  the 
crime,  but  they  spare  the  criminal,  and  are  very  far 
from  supposing  the  worst  motives,  when  better  may  be 
suggested.  It  is,  indeed,  the  steady  pursuit  of  virtue 
in  their  own  conduct,  which  prevents  them  from  search- 
ing too  busily  into  the  secrets  of  other  men's  hearts  : 
having  a  great  enterprize  to  perform  themselves,  they 
have  no  time  to  spare  for  those  nice  investigations.  One 
observation  is  undeniable,  that  lie  who  was  the  great 


142  On  Christian  Charity. 

pattern  of  human  virtue,  and  who  perfectly  understood 
all  the  polluted  sources  of  human  conduct,  was  yet 
more  remarkable  for  the  most  indulgent  charity  than 
perhaps  for  any  one  quality  whatever;  and  if,  in  the 
whole  course  of  his  conversation  among  men,  he  was 
ever  induced  to  utter  so  much  as  a  harsh  expression,  it 
was  on  those  occasions  only,  when  he  was  shocked  with 
perceiving  a  want  of  charity  in  others. 

Having  stated,  in  this  general  way,  the  reasonable- 
ness and  excellence  of  universal  charity,  and  the  small 
ground  which  any  man  has  to  pass  a  severe  judgment 
on  his  neighbour  in  any  one  point  whatever,  I  proceed 
to  enforce  the  practice  of  this  virtue.  And,  first,  it  may 
be  enforced  from  the  comfort  and  satisfaction  which  it 
will  naturally  give  to  the  minds  of  those  who  cultivate 
it.  What  can  be  a  more  desirable  turn  of  mind  than 
to  think  the  best  we  can  of  every  one  with  whom  we 
have  any  connection ;  to  have  a  satisfaction  in  discover- 
ing his  virtues ;  and  to  hope  that  his  vices  are  not  radi- 
cal and  incurable  ?  Such  a  disposition,  while  it  is  quite 
free  from  the  imputation  of  weakness  and  want  of  dis- 
cernment, is  sufficient  to  keep  us  always  alert  and 
cheerful,  free  from  morose  and  harsh  opinions,  on  a 
good  footing  with  the  world  and  with  ourselves.  If  we 
are  disposed  to  look  for  it,  much  virtue  we  shall  un- 
doubtedly find ;  and,  in  general,  the  vices  of  men  will 
appear  to  be  so  intermingled  with  good  qualities,  that 
we  shall  always  find  something  pleasing  to  relieve  our 
minds  amid  the  shades  of  the  darkest  picture.  On  the 
contrary,  nothing  can  afford  more  discomfort  to  the 
mind  than  the  uncharitable  passions,  such  as  suspicion, 
fear,  and  religious  bigotry. 


On  Christian  Charity.  14'3 

But,  secondly,  if  we  cannot  be  incited  to  a  charitable 
disposition  by  the  pleasure  attending  it  in  this  life,  let 
us  be  stirred  up  to  it  by  the  apprehension  of  the  judg- 
ment to  come,  which  is  the  argument  of  the  text. 
"  Judge  not  J  that  ye  be  not  judged."*^  We  shall  have 
enough  to  answer  for  at  that  awful  period.  Our  imper- 
fect devotion  ;  our  irregular  lives  ;  our  constant  attach- 
ment to  the  fashion  of  this  world,  which  passeth  away, 
— such  habitual  deficiencies,  with  many  other  particular 
sins,  will  then  rise  up  against  us,  and  can  only  be 
blotted  out  by  the  merits  of  our  Redeemer.  Let  us 
not  add  to  the  shameful  catalogue,  dark  and  malignant 
judgments  concerning  each  other ;  but,  as  we  hope  on 
that  day  to  be  saved  by  love,  let  us  now  show  that  we 
have  some  feeling  of  the  principle  which  alone  can  then 
be  our  protection. 


<%M«a:^ 


SERMON  XVIII. 

ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY,  AS  IT  INFLUENCES 
CONDUCT. 


ST.  JOHN,  xiii.  34. 

''  A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you^  that  ye  love 
one  another.'''* 

IT  may  seem  somewhat  extraordinary  that  this 
should  be  called  a  new  commandment,  or  that  any  re- 
velation should  be  requisite  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
home  to  the  human  heart  those  principles  upon  which 
the  love  of  mankind  depends.  That  the  principles  of 
piety  cannot  be  well  inculcated  without  some  sort  of 
divine  discipline,  may  appear  sufficiently  plain ;  but  na- 
ture, we  may  imagine,  surely  leaves  us  at  no  loss  re- 
specting those  affections  which  ought  to  prevail  between 
man  and  man.  The  seeds  of  justice  and  humanity  are 
sown  in  our  frame ;  and  although  we  may  very  often  be 
defective  in  our  practice  of  those  virtues,  yet  we  can 
scarcely,  it  may  be  thought,  remain  blind  to  their 
obligation. 

It  is  this  view  which  seems  to  have  misled  several 
philosophical  inquirers  in  modern  times,  who,  while  they 
have  enlightened  the  world  with  many  excellent  obser- 


On  Christian  Charity.  145 

vations  on  social  duty,  have  not,  however,  perceived  that 
they  are  at  all  indebted  to  Christianity  for  the  principles 
upon  which  they  proceed.  Yet  it  would  be  deserving 
their  consideration,  whence  it  has  happened  that  they  are 
so  mucli  better  instructed  in  these  particulars  than  the 
wise  men  of  the  heathen  world  ;  or  why,  among  errors 
and  extravagancies  of  their  own,  they  have  yet  scarcely 
advanced  one  solid  position,  the  prototype  of  which  is 
not  to  be  found  in  the  gospel  ? 

The  peculiar  advantage  of  the  law  of  Christian  cha- 
rity consists  in  the  universality  of  its  application.  In 
the  first  place,  the  whole  system  of  fair  and  equitable 
dealing  is  comprehended  in  the  maxim,  that  we  should 
do  to  others  whatsoever  we  would  that  they  should  do 
to  us.  It  is  impossible  that  we  should  ever  injure  a 
fellow- creature  if  this  rule  were  carefully  observed. 
Considering  what,  in  his  circumstances,  we  should  have 
a  right  to  expect  as  our  due,  we  cannot  but  perceive 
the  monstrous  injustice  of  refusing  it  to  him.  The  ob- 
servation of  this  maxim  would  at  once  banish  every 
thing  like  wrong  out  of  the  world ;  and  the  whole  con- 
duct of  mankind  would  be  regulated  by  principles  of 
the  strictest  justice. 

In  the  second  place,  the  maxim  that  we  should  love 
our  neighbour  as  ourselves,  carries  us  much  farther. 
By  this  we  are  not  only  prohibited  from  doing  wrong, 
or  commanded  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  equity,  but  we 
are  excited  to  acts  of  extensive  beneficence.  Our 
Saviour's  answer  to  the  question,  Who  is  my  neigh- 
bour ?  shows  very  plainly  how  far  this  commandment 
reaches,  and  points  out,  in  the  most  touching  manner, 

r 


J  46  On  Christian  Charity. 

that  wbeiever  \vc  can  find  an  opportunity  of  doing  good, 
there  our  neidibour  is  also  to  be  found. 

o 

The  third  maxim,  which  completes  this  system  of 
benevolence,  carries  us  as  far  as  it  is  possible  to  go,  and 
much  farther  than  men  conceived  their  duty  required 
before  the  gospel  was  introduced  into  the  world.  "  Ye 
have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said.  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbour  and  hate  thine  enemy  ;  but  I  say  unto  you^ 
Love  your  enemies^  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good 
to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  which  despite- 
fully  use  you  and  persecute  you.^"*  In  this  rule  of  en- 
lightened morality,  we  are  taught  to  overlook,  in  some 
degree,  the  distinctions  in  the  characters  of  men  ;  to 
disregard  the  accidental  variances  and  oppositions  into 
which  we  may  happen  to  be  thrown  in  this  world  ;  and, 
amidst  all  the  vices  and  follies  which  may  be  prevalent 
around  us,  and  amidst  all  the  hostility  which  it  may  be 
our  lot  to  encounter,  still  to  contemplate,  with  affec- 
tionate regard,  that  common  bond  of  human  nature  by 
which  every  one  man  is  united  to  every  other. 

It  has  been  justly  objected  to  some  modern  systems 
of  benevolence,  that  while  they  inculcate  an  unaccounta- 
ble regard  for  the  interests  of  the  human  race  in  general, 
and  make  that  the  only  principle  of  action,  they  in  a 
great  degree  tend  to  extirpate  all  those  private  feelings 
and  affections  by  which  alone  human  society  is  main- 
tained. But  while  the  charity  inculcated  in  the  gospel 
is  as  comprehensive  as  can  be  conceived,  it  is  by  no 
means  liable  to  this  objection.  Every  good  affection  of 
the  heart,  love  to  parents,  and  benefiictors,  and  friends, 
is  encouraged  and  promoted  by  it.    It  is  most  assuredly 


On  Christian  Charity.  147 

our  duty  to  befriend  virtue,  and  to  oppose  vice  :  while 
we  have  enemies  we  must  resist  them,  nor  can  we  avoid 
feeling  the  natural  sentiments  of  resentment  and  indig- 
nation :  Christianity  supersedes  not  any  one  of  those 
principles  of  our  nature,  though  it  regulates  and  re- 
strains them  all:  it  has  always  protected,  never  unhinged 
the  established  order  of  the  world ;  the  general  interests 
of  mankind,  it  instructs  us,  are  in  higher  hands  than 
ours;  and  every  man,  promotes  them  best  while  he 
keeps  the  station  in  which  Providence  has  placed  him. 
Yet,  amidst  all  this  attention  to  every  private  feeling  na- 
tural  to  man,  amidst  all  its  regard  for  the  order,  and  evei* 
for  the  prejudices  of  society,  Christianity  teaches  us  a 
still  higher  lesson ;  and,  leading  us  at  times  to  forget  that 
we  ourselves  are  actors  in  this  busy  and  distracted  scene, 
it  lifts  us  to  that  serene  eminence  from  which  we  may 
contemplate  all  the  conduct  of  man  with  the  temper 
and  benevolence  of  Heaven.  It  is  perhaps  in  our  medi- 
tations alone  that  we  can  reach  those  feelings  of  exten- 
sive charity  ;  yet  these  meditations  are  not  without  their 
influence  on  our  practice,  and  restore  us  to  the  inter- 
course of  men,  with  the  wish  and  resolution  to  "  love 
niuch,^''  "  to  suffer  /ong,^^  "  and  to  hope  all  things.''^ 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  a  very  faint  exposition  of 
Christian  charity,  or  of  those  affections  which  our  reli- 
gion inculcates,  as  due  from  man  to  man.  The  system 
commonly  prevalent  in  the  world,  it  is  evident,  is  of  d 
very  different  nature.  Men  are,  in  general,  very  partial 
in  their  affections,  indulgent  to  some,  and  quite  inatten- 
tive to  the  feelings  of  others;  few  are  disposed  to  engage 
heartily  and  perseveringly  in  the  practice  of  beneficence ; 
hatreds  and  animosities,  of  the  most  irreconcilcable  na- 


148  On  Christian  Charity, 

ture,  frequently  rising  from  the  most  trivial  causes, 
generally  prevail ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  find  a  person  who 
will  for  a  moment  allow  himself  to  suspect,  that,  in 
those  differences,  there  is  any  possibility  he  may  be  in 
the  wrong. 

If  men  will  examine  themselves,  they  will  according- 
ly find,  that  there  is  very  wide  scope  for  divine  instruc- 
tion in  this  extensive  branch  of  their  duty  ;  and  surely, 
to  listen  to  such  instruction  ought  to  be  an  employment 
of  the  greatest  pleasure  and  delight.  What  more  de- 
lightful, than  to  feel  that  we  may  live  in  love  and  har- 
mony with  our  brethren  ;  that  there  is  no  insuperable 
bar  dividing  the  hearts  of  men  from  each  other ;  and 
that  there  are  certain  plain  rules,  which,  if  impressed 
upon  every  individual,  would  infallibly  convert  the 
world  into  a  region  of  love  and  happiness  ? 

But,  perhaps,  you  complain  of  the  ingratitude  of  man- 
kind, and  say,  that  although  you  were  to  love  them, 
they  will  not  love  you  in  return.  You  will  say,  per- 
haps, that,  in  early  youth,  you  gave  way  to  the  kindly 
emotions  of  your  nature  ;  that  you  saw  little  vice  in  the 
world,  and  expected  much  frie!>dship ;  you  were  suspi- 
cious of  none,  and  kind  to  all:  but  experience  has  taught 
you  another  lesson  ;  you  have  met  with  much  deceit, 
and  much  ingratitude  ;  in  spite  of  your  feelings,  your 
heart  has  been  contracted,  and  you  now  find  it  wisdom 
to  be  as  regardless  of  others,  as  they  have  been  of  you. 
This,  my  brethren,  is  a  complaint  which  is  not  unfre- 
quently  made  ;  but  I  suspect  not  often  with  much  foun- 
dation. They  who  complain  so  much  of  the  ingratitude 
of  mankind,  have  seldom  been  hearty  in  their  service. 
They  fix  upon  a  few  instances  of  disappointment  in 


On  Christian  Charity.  149 

their  expectations,  and  these  they  magnify  beyond  all 
measure.  The  world  is  bad  enough  ;  but  it  contains 
much  gratitude.  There  probably  never  was  any  man  who 
sincerely  engaged  in  the  service  of  mankind,  without 
receiving  testimonies  of  gratitude,  which  have  over- 
whelmed his  heart. 

Reflections  of  this  nature  are  particularly  incumbent 
upon  those  who  are  about  to  kneel  down  at  the  altar  of 
Christ*.  As  his  example  is  the  great  model  of  all  vir- 
tue, so  is  it  in  nothing  more  conspicuous  than  in  the 
purest  love  to  mankind  ;  and  the  service  in  which  some 
of  us  are  now  to  be  engaged,  is  the  commemoration  of 
the  most  signal  instance  of  that  love.  We  are  going  to 
stand  at  the  foot  of  his  cross,  to  behold  the  sufferings 
which  he  endured  for  our  sake,  and  to  partake  in  the 
benefit  of  his  body  and  blood.  Can  we,  my  brethren, 
approach  to  this  holy  service,  and  retain  in  our  hearts 
any  malice  to  any  one  of  the  human  race  ?  Shall  we  not 
here,  if  anywhere,  forgive  our  brethren  their  trespasses, 
when  we  behold  the  pledge  that  ours  have  been  for- 
given ?  Shall  we  complain  of  the  ingratitude  of  men, 
when  we  hear  our  Lord  praying  for  his  enemies  in  the 
midst  of  his  agony,  and  saying,  '''■  Father,  Jorgive  them^ 
for  they  know  not  xvhat  they  do  ?"  Or,  shall  we  not  be 
prompted  to  perform  all  the  good  within  our  limited 
power,  when  we  are  contemplating  that  beneficence 
which  embraced  a  \vorld  ? 

*  I'reacheil  hi^forc  the  Communion.- 


SERMON  XIX. 

ON  THE  LESSONS  TO  BE  LEARNED  FROM  THE 
AFFLICTIONS  OF  LIFE. 


ECCLESIASTES,  vii.  2. 

"  It  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  oy  mourning,  than  to  the 
house  of  feasting  ;  for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and 
the  living  ivill  lay  it  to  his  heart  J*"* 

MEN  of  an  irreligious  turn  of  mind  frequently 
raise  objections  against  the  goodness  of  God,  from  the 
multiplicity  of  evils  and  distresses  with  which  human 
life  abounds.  Men  of  piety,  on  the  contrary,  behold, 
in  this  very  circumstance,  some  of  the  most  conspicu- 
ous proofs  of  a  watchful  and  kind  providence;  and  from 
the  bosom  of  grief  and  wretchedness,  they  derive  their 
strongest  hopes  and  firmest  reliance  on  the  protection  of 
their  heavenly  Father.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  more 
certain,  than  that  the  heart  of  man  frequently  requires  to 
be  corrected  ;  that  when  every  thing  in  this  world  pro- 
ceeds in  an  even  and  prosperous  course,  then  the  heart 
is  most  infirm,  and  most  liable  to  sink  under  tempta- 
tion ;  and  that,  in  these  circumstances,  the  bitter  potion 
of  adversity  is  by  far  the  most  salutary  medicine  which 
can  be  administered  for  its  cure. 


On  the  AffiictioJis  of  Life,  151 

•  While,  therefore,  in  such  afflicting  dispensations,  men 
of  profane  minds  sec  nothing  but  the  cruel  hand  of  a 
blind  and  undistinguishing  fatality,  those  who  are  in- 
fluenced by  the  sentiments  of  religion  perceive,  on  those 
occasions,  most  clearly  the  kind  interference  of  the  phy- 
sician of  their  souls  ;  and  if  they  have  lost  sight  of  him 
in  their  hours  of  gaiety  and  pleasure,  are  sure  again  to 
become  conscious  of  his  visitations  in  the  season  of  per- 
plexity and  trouble. 

But  although  the  evils  incident  to  man  might  thus  be 
shown  to  be  a  most  necessary  part  of  the  divine  dispen- 
sations,  it  is,  at  the  same  time,  to  be  remarked,  that, 
although  very  various  and  greatly  multiplied,  they  yet 
by  no  means  constitute  the  leading  features  of  human 
life;  even  in  this  imperfect  condition,  in  this  lower  stage 
of  our  existence,  ease  and  tranquillity  are  the  portion  of 
mankind  in  general ;  and  if  some  are  more  peculiarly 
marked  out  for  misery,  while  it  is  in  their  power  to 
profit  by  their  troubles,  and  "  to  come  forth  like  gold 
■when  they  are  tried,^'*  others  may  derive  great  instruc- 
tion, from  merely  contemplating  their  distresses.  This 
milder  discipline,  this  acquaintance  with  human  misery, 
which  is  to  be  learned  from  observing  it  in  other  men, 
this  method  of  acquiring  wisdom,  which  may  often  ob- 
viate the  necessity  for  our  being  subjected  by  Pro- 
vidence to  any  very  severe  chastisements  in  our  own 
persons,  is  recommended  to  all  men  by  Solomon  in  the 
text ;  and  he  enforces  it  by  a  comparison,  which  must 
universally  be  felt,  because  it  appeals  immediately  to  the 
ruling  propensities  of  our  nature.  We  all  love  pleasure, 
mirth,  and  gaiety;  love  to  have  our  hearts  lightened,  our 
cares  cast  aside;  to  have  no  fears  for  the  future,  no  melan- 


152  On  the  Afflictions  of  Life, 

choly  recollections  of  the  past;  and  to  grasp  the  fleeting 
enjoyments  of  the  present  moment.  All  men,  in  a  word, 
love  to  frequent  what  the  wise  man  calls  the  "  house  of 
feasting:''''  now,  to  show  in  a  striking  manner  the  ad- 
vantages to  be  derived  from  an  acquaintance  with  hu- 
man misery,  he  declares,  that  "  it  is  better  to  go  to  the 
house  of  mourning.''^ 

It  is  apparent,  indeed,  at  the  first  view,  that  the 
"  house  of  mourning''^  is  a  school  of  serious  thought  and 
reflection;  a  school,  too,  which  at  all  times" stands  open 
for  our  reception,  and  in  which  wemay  learn  our  les- 
sons without  cost  or  pains.  In  "  the  house  of  feasting  y"*"- 
we  evidently  do  not  learn  to  think,  but  rather  have  our 
thoughts  lost  and  dissipated  ;  and,  while  we  gain  no- 
thing substantial  there,  we  are  often  betrayed  into  the 
forfeiture  of  our  respectability  and  our  virtue.  I  do  not, 
however,  propose  at  present  to  continue  this  compari- 
son ;  it  will  be  more  useful  to  consider  with  attention 
a  few  of  the  lessons  \vith  which  the  house  of  mourning 
may  supply  us,  and  to  which  the  words  of  the  text 
particularly  direct  our  thoughts. 

We  are  desired  to  go  to  '*  the  house  of  mournings  for 
that  is  the  end  of  ail  men^  and  the  living  will  lay  it  to 
his  heart.''''  In  these  words,  I  conceive  three  things  to 
be  either  implied  or  expressed. — The  advice  that  we 
should  "5*0  to  the  house  of  mourning^''  supposes  that 
we  shall  sympathize  with  the  sufferings  of  those  who 
mourn. — "  For  that  is  the  end  of  all  inen,^^  is  a  senti- 
ment  expressive  of  pity  and  love  to  mankind. — "  Afid 
the  living  will  lay  it  to  his  heart.''''  These  words  infer 
religious  wisdom  as  the  great  improvement  to  be  made 
from  all  the  scenes  of  human  misery.     Sympathy,  cha- 


On  the  Afflictions  of  Life,  153 

rity,  and  religion,  are  therefore  the  three  most  important, 
lessons  to  be  learnt  in  the  house  of  mourning,  and  who- 
ever learns  these,  will  be  fully  instructed  in  the  whole 
duty  of  man. 

The  house  of  mourning,  then,  is  the  school  of  sym- 
pathy. This  disposition  is  natural  to  man,  and  is  the 
most  lovely  part  of  our  nature.  But  in  no  particular 
are  our  hearts  more  liable  to  be  corrupted  and  vitiated ; 
as  we  proceed  in  the  world,  our  affections  are  ever 
prone  to  be  concentrated  upon  ourselves,  and  selfish- 
ness, that  most  fatal  depravation  of  our  nature,  is  at  all 
times  too  ready  to  seize  upon  us.  We  are  encouraged 
in  it  by  many  circumstances.  Sometimes  pride,  or  a 
high  opinion  of  ourselves,  renders  us  indifferent  to  the 
feelings  of  others  ;  sometimes  the  pursuit  of  pleasure 
subjects  all  our  affections  to  our  own  paltry  gratifica- 
tions ;  or  the  cares  and  business  of  the  world  occupy  all 
our  thoughts,  and  leave  us  no  room  for  considering  the 
desires  and  wishes  of  our  brethren  ;  or,  finally,  mere 
indolence  may  often  indispose  us  from  giving  that 
attention  to  the  concerns  of  other  men,  which  may  bring 
trouble  and  uneasiness  to  ourselves. 

To  put  a  stop  to  the  course  of  this  depravity,  nothing- 
can  be  more  effectual  than  going  to  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing, than  beholding  the  sufferings  of  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  permitting  our  hearts  to  be  penetrated  by  the 
natural  sentiments  of  humanity.  It  is  owing  to  our 
ignorance,  or  our  forgetfulness  of  the  distresses  which 
everywhere  surround  us,  that  we  are  rendered  so  indif- 
ferent as  we  often  are  to  the  feelings  of  each  other,  and 
wrap  ourselves  up  in  thoughtless  insensibility.  If  we 
would  inquire  into  them  with  diligence,   and  look  at 

u 


154  On  the  Affiictions  of  Life. 

them  with  our  own  eyes,  it  is  impossible  but  that  our 
hearts  must  be  affected,  and  that  we  must  feel  as  it 
becomes  men.  There  is  no  need,  to  be  sure,  for  a 
weak  and  sickly  sensibility ;  that  disposition  is  more 
frequently  employed  in  finding  out  food  for  the  fancy, 
than  in  mending  the  heart.  But  a  luxurious  indulgence 
of  the  softer  feelings  is  never  produced  by  the  sight  of 
real  misery.  The  sympathy  which  is  drawn  out  by 
real  suffering,  is  always  accompanied  by  a  sense  of 
duties  to  be  peiformed ;  it  never  stagnates  in  the  breast 
idly  inactive,  but  flows  out  in  beneficent  exertions. 

In  the  second  place :  the  house  of  mourning  is  the 
great  school  of  charity,  or  of  that  love  to  our  fellow- 
creatures  which  overlooks  all  distinctions,  and  views 
them  in  the  single  and  endearing  aspect  of  men  and 
brethren.  "  For  that  is  the  end  of  all  men.'*'' — These 
striking  words  level  all  disparities,  and  place  every 
human  being  on  a  footing  of  equality.  We  are  all 
weak,  frail,  mortal  creatures:  here  is  our  point  of  union, 
in  whatever  else  we  may  differ.  One  man  is  rich,  and 
another  is  poor ;  one  man  ^ays  the  rod  of  empire,  and 
another  drags  out  his  life  in  abject  slavery  ;  the  mind 
of  one  glows  with  enlightened  views  and  liberal  attain- 
ments, while  dulness  and  stupidity  cloud  the  apprehen- 
sions of  another.  Farther  still :  one  man  is  virtuous, 
and  another  is  wicked  ;  one  bends  before  the  throne  of 
God,  and  acknowledges  the  power  that  made  him, 
Nvhile  another  pursues  his  depraved  inclinations,  and 
diinks  not  of  the  account  which  he  must  render  to  his 
Judge.  Such  are  the  distinctions  which  prevail  in  the 
world ;  and  men  become  elated  with  such  distinctions, 
«nd  grow  vain  in  their  own  conceits,  *'  and  their  foolish 


On  the  Afflictions  of  Life.  155 

hearts  are  darkened.''^  In  consequence  of  these  disor- 
derly thoughts,  want  of  charity  prevails ;  men  lose  sight 
of  the  common  tie  which  binds  them  together;  and  one 
half  of  the  world  looks  down  upon  the  other,  as  unwor- 
thy its  notice  and  regard. 

Hast  thou  lost  sight  of  that  common  tie  ?  Go  then 
to  the  "  house  of  mourning^'*''  and  be  no  longer  a  fool. 
Those  distinctions  which  excite  thy  pride,  and  lead  thee 
to  despise  thy  neighbour,  what  are  they  ?  They  may 
serve  thee  to  boast  of  through  a  short  and  fleeting  life ; 
but  will  they  save  thee  from  the  common  destiny,  which 
marks  thee  out  a  frail  and  perishing  creature  ?  In  "  the 
house  of  mourning''^  thou  wilt  see  that  circumstance  in 
which  all  men  are  assimilated  ;  the  bond  of  weakness 
and  misery  by  which  all  are  connected.  Thy  wealth, 
thy  power,  thy  abilities,  even  thy  virtue,  and  thy  reli- 
gion, are  all  subjected  to  the  frailty  of  thy  mortal  state; 
an  uncertain  and  precarious  existence  enters  equally  into 
the  description  of  every  man,  and  in  this  aflfecting  cir- 
cumstance we  may  see  the  true  foundation  of  brotherly 
union  and  love. 

I  proceed,  in  the  third  place,  to  show,  that,  in  the 
house  of  mourning,  we  learn  the  best  lessons  of  religi- 
ous wisdom  ;  "  for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and  the 
living  will  lay  it  to  his  heart. ^^  Why  should  he  lay  it 
to  his  heart,  unless  there  were  something  beyond  this 
*'  end  of  all  men  .*'"  If  the  curtain  closed  in  the  house 
of  mourning  for  ever,  it  would  be  better  to  drive  away 
from  our  hearts  than  to  lay  to  them,  a  reflection  which 
would  only  be  melancholy,  and  could  be  productive  of 
no  good ;  and,  accordingly,  such  is  the  use  which  some 
men  of  the  gayer  sort  have  made,  from  contemplating 


156  On  the  Afflictions  of  Life, 

the  house  of  mourning.  They  have  drawn  from  the 
consideration  of  the  shortness  of  life,  arguments  for  the 
freer  eiijoyment  of  it  while  it  lasts:  "  Let  us  eat  and 
drink  (they  say),  for  to-morrow  we  die."  But  this  is 
vanity  and  delusion,  and  is  never  the  voice  of  nature. 
The  natural  effect  of  the  house  of  mourning  is  to  throw 
us  into  sober  reflection ;  to  call  back  our  scattered 
thoughts  ;  to  make  us  feel  our  present  weakness ;  and 
to  turn  our  eyes  with  serious  apprehension  to  the  awful 
events  of  futurity. 

Two  impressions  particularly  favourable  to  religion, 
humility  and  hope,  are  forced  upon  the  mind  on  such 
occasions.  When  we  contemplate  some  striking  in- 
stance of  "  the  end  of  all  men^"  is  it  possible  not  to  be 
impressed  with  a  sense  of  our  littleness,  and  of  our  en- 
tire dependence  on  the  Almighty  hand,  by  which  we 
are  raised  or  brought  low  ?  When  power,  or  genius, 
or  worth,  submit  to  the  common  fate,  and  are  swept 
from  the  earth,  do  we  not  immediately  exclaim,  What 
is  man  !  and  perceive  but  one  Being  whose  operations 
are  without  controul?  Must  we  not  then  be  convinced, 
that  all  the  occupations  and  concerns  of  human  life  carry 
in  them  an  admixture  of  vanity,  and  that  those  circum- 
stances on  which  we  ground  our  self-consequence,  are 
really  futile  and  insignificant?  We  shall,  accordingly, 
feel  humiliated  and  astonished  at  ourselves,  and  shall 
bend  beneath  the  fear  of  him  who  is  the  arbiter  of  our 
eternal  destiny. 

It  is  very  apparent,  then,  in  what  manner  humility 
and  religious  awe  arise  from  the  contemplation  of  human 
misery.  That  religious  hope  should  flow  from  the 
same  source,  may  not  be  so  easily  explicable ;  yet  I 


On  the  Affiictions  of  Life.  157 

believe  nothing  is  more  true,  and  that  celestial  stream 
which  bends  its  course  into  the  regions  of  light,  and 
waters  the  tree  of  life  in  the  midst  of  the  garden  of  God, 
rises  in  its  greatest  purity  from  the  deep  abysses  of  afflic- 
tion. When  every  thing  around  us  appears  dark  and 
cheerless ;  when  all  the  world,  with  the  whole  race  of 
man,  seems  a  vain,  fleeting,  and  disorderly  scene ;  then 
it  is  that  the  light  from  above  breaks  through  the  clouds 
which  envelope  our  souls.  The  suggestions  of  nature, 
and  the  boldness  of  faith,  are  supported  by  reason. 
When  we  behold  man  brought  low,  and  his  beauty  laid 
in  the  dust,  we  cannot  reasonably  think  that  the  great 
Parent  has  deserted  his  offspring  for  ever;  and  the  great- 
er his  fall,  and  more  complete  his  apparent  degradation, 
the  more  reason,  perhaps,  have  we  to  look  for  some 
splendid  change  from  the  wonder-working  hand  of  Pro- 
vidence. 

Such  are  the  suggestions  of  religion  on  the  view  of 
any  of  the  great  calamities  to  which  man  is  subject, 
particularly  in  the  contemplation  of  death ;  and  here, 
indeed,  is  the  triumph  of  Religion !  This  is  the  province 
peculiarly  subject  to  her  command,  and  in  which  she 
moves  with  the  dignity  of  a  sovereign.  In  the  heat  and 
and  hurry  of  the  world;  amid  its  business,  its  intrigues, 
and  its  pleasures ;  she  may  lift  her  voice,  but  it  will  not 
be  heard.  She  will  fly  from  the  pride  and  the  ingenuity 
of  the  sophist ;  she  will  avoid  the  questions  and  per- 
plexities of  the  divine  ;  and  her  simplicity  may  too  often 
be  lost  or  obscured  in  the  ambitious  eloquence  of  tlx- 
preacher.  But  '*  go  to  the  house  of  mourjiing^'*''  and 
there  you  will  find  her  active  and  employed.  In  those 
secret  retreats  of  sorro\A',  you  may  still  hear  the  gentle 


158  On  the  Afflictions  of  Life, 

but  authoritative  voice  of  Him  who  was  acquainted  with 
grief:  **  JVhy  make  ye  all  this  ado  and  weep?  the  dam- 
sel is  not  dead.,  but  sleepethJ*"* 

Enough  has  been  said,  my  brethren,  to  justify  the 
assertion,  that  the  house  of  mourning  is  the  best  school 
which  we  can  frequent,  if  we  wish  our  hearts  to  be 
really  improved,  and  to  learn  our  duty  either  to  God  or 
man.  Our  duty  to  man  we  shall  find  to  consist  in  kind 
attentions  and  brotherly  love,  which  surely  the  view  of 
his  sufferings  is  of  all  things  the  best  adapted  to  call 
forth.  And  how  can  we  better  learn  our  duty  to  God, 
than  in  contemplating  the  striking  instances  of  his  power 
exhibited  in  the  fate  of  man,  and  in  lifting  our  thoughts 
to  those  higher  views  which  open  amid  the  shades  of 
death  ?  How  can  we  better  learn  that  humble  acquies- 
cence in  his  providence,  which  becomes  our  frail  and 
feeble  condition ;  or  the  necessity  for  that  obedience  to 
his  will,  by  which  alone  our  hope  and  faith  can  be 
invigorated  and  confirmetl  ? 


SERMON  XX. 


ON  RELIGIOUS  CONSOLATION  IN  AFFLICTION,  EX- 
EMPLIFIED IN  THE  CASE  OF  THE  DEATH  OF 
CHILDREN. 


MATTHEW,  ii.  18. 


**  Li  Rama  was  there  a  voice  heard,  lamentation^  and 
weeping,  and  great  mourning  ;  Rachel  weeping  for 
her  children,  and  would  not  be  comforted^  because  they 
are  not.'*'* 

THESE  words,  my  brethren,  of  the  prophet 
Jeremiah,  are  appHed,  as  you  know,  by  the  holy  evan- 
gehst,  to  that  very  extraordinary  and  horrible  incident 
which  he  relates  in  this  chapter :  the  massacre  of  the 
young  children,  perpetrated  by  Herod,  in  the  hope  that 
the  infant  king  of  the  Jews  would  thus  be  sacrificed  to 
his  jealous  fury.  In  this  expectation  he  was  disappoint- 
ed by  the  overruling  hand  of  Providence ;  and  we  who, 
in  a  distant  age  and  country,  meet  at  this  day  for  the  pur- 
poses of  religion,  in  the  name  of  the  Child  who  was  then 
spared,  know,  I  trust,  in  what  manner  to  value  and  to 
adore  that  watchful  goodness,  which,  while  it  permitted 
the  hearts  of  the  mothers  of  Bethlehem  to  bleed,  was  yet 
laying  firm,  for  all  future  generations  of  men,  the  foun- 


160  On  Religious  Cotisolation 

dation  of  their  happiness  and  their  hopes.  To  such  ex- 
tensive views  of  divine  Providence,  it  is  the  deliglit  of 
religion  to  conduct  the  serious  mind,  and  to  clothe,  with 
a  mantle  of  celestial  light,  the  most  melancholy  appear- 
ances which  this  lower  world  exhibits.  In  the  first  in- 
stance, indeed,  nature  fixes  our  thoughts  on  the  appear- 
ances alone  ;  and  when,  as  in  the  incident  before  us,  we 
read  of  the  mandate  which  the  tyrant  "  sent  forth  to  slay 
all  the  children  that  were  in  Betlilehem^  and  in  all  the 
coasts  thereof,  from  two  years  old  a?id  wider, ^^  we  can, 
for  a  time,  listen  to  no  voice,  except  that  which  long 
before  had  resounded  in  the  ears  of  the  prophet,  "  the 
voice  of  lamentation,  and  weeping,  and  great  mourning; 
Rachel  weeping  for  her  children^  and  refusing  to  he  com- 
forted,'" 

In  the  hour  in  which  I  speak*,  my  brethren,  such  a 
voice,  I  fear,  is  but  too  frequent  in  the  houses  of  our 
city  ;  and  many  a  tear  is  now  falling  from  the  eyes  of 
parents  over  the  lifeless  remains  of  infant  innocence  and 
beauty.  The  same  God,  who,  on  one  memorable  oc- 
casion, permitted  a  bloody  tyrant  to  be  the  minister  of 
his  inscrutable  designs,  in  the  destruction  of  holy  inno- 
cents, more  frequendy  sends  disease  among  the  young 
of  his  people;  and,  year  after  year,  as  at  the  present 
hour,  many  a  spotless  soul  returns  to  him,  untried  by 
the  dangers,  and  unpolluted  by  the  sins  of  that  earthly 
course  on  which  it  had  begun  to  enter.  It  is  an  hour 
in  which  even  religion  must  for  a  time  be  still,  and 
listen,  with  sacred  respect,  to  the  voice  of  nature,  which, 

*  February,  1 808,  when  the  disease  of  the  measles  was  fatally 
prevalent. 


ifi  Affiiction.  161 

even  in  its  excesses  of  "  lamentation^  and  weepings  and 
great  mourjiing,''^  is  yet  the  voice  of  God  in  the  human 
heart.  When  she  may  speak,  however,  Religion  can 
utter  the  words  of  consolation ;  and  it  is  her  office  to 
seize  upon  those  hours  when  the  hearts  of  some  are 
broken  with  affliction,  and  when  many  are  trembling 
with  apprehension,  and  to  press  those  lessons  of  wisdom, 
which  are  heard  too  often  with  indifference,  in  the  pride 
and  the  gaiety  of  common  life. 

The  sentiment  expressed  in  the  text,  my  brethren, 
accords  with  the  feelings  of  human  nature.  The  death 
of  young  children  excites,  perhaps,  more  *'  lamentation 
and  great  mourning'''*  than  any  other  incident  in  the 
course  of  mortality.  To  those  who  are  not  parents,  a 
dispensation  of  this  kind  may  seem,  perhaps,  of  a  much 
less  afflicting  nature  than  many  others.  A  child  is  but 
an  insignificant  object  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  and 
seems  but  a  trifling  loss  to  society.  To  a  parent,  how- 
ever, those  very  circumstances,  which  render  his  child 
of  little  value  to  others,  are  the  most  attractive.  It  is 
his  delight  to  retire  from  the  serious  cares  and  busy 
occupations  of  men  into  the  unanxious  scenes  of  child- 
ish playfulness ;  to  repose  his  thoughts  upon  some 
countenances  on  which  the  world  has  left  no  traces  of 
care,  and  vice  has  impressed  no  marks  of  disorder ;  and 
to  find  within  his  own  house,  and  sprung  from  his  own 
loins,  some  forms  which  recal  the  image  of  primaeval 
innocence,  and  anticipate  the  society  of  heaven.  When 
these  innocent  beings  are  torn  from  us,  we  suffer  a  cala- 
mity with  which  a  stranger,  indeed,  will  imperfectly 
sympathize,  but  of  which  the  heart  knoweth  the  bitter- 
ness  ;  and  the  sorrow  may  only  be  the  deeper,  and  more 


162  On  Religious  Consolation 

heartfelt,  that  it  must  be  disguised  and  smothered  from 
an  unpitying  world. 

The  death  of  a  young  person,  advanced  to  years  of 
maturity,  occasions  a  general  sympathy.  The  grief  of 
parents  is  then  at  once  felt  and  understood.  When 
talents,  which  gave  the  promise  of  future  distinction, 
and  virtues,  to  which  the  declining  years  of  a  parent 
clung  for  support,  are  torn  from  the  domestic  circle 
which  they  blessed  and  adorned,  there  are  few  hearts 
so  much  closed  to  a  fellow-feeling  with  human  calamity, 
as  not  to  be  powerfully  affected  with  such  circumstances 
of  deep  distress.  But  this  very  sympathy  of  mankind 
is  a  source  of  consolation  which  alleviates  the  affliction 
by  which  it  is  occasioned.  The  sorrow  excited  by  the 
death  of  a  young  child  may  often  be  as  acute,  but  it  is 
attended  with  much  less  sympathy.  Here,  too,  parents 
have  formed  hopes  which  are  only,  perhaps,  the  greater 
and  more  unbounded,  inasmuch  as  the  foundation  on 
which  they  rest  is  less  certain  and  definite.  These 
hopes  are  frustrated  for  ever;  their  child  is  as  if  he  had 
never  been  ;  even  his  memory  has  disappeared  from 
every  heart  but  their  own ;  and  they  cherish  it  with  the 
deeper  feeling,  that  there  is  no  other  breast  in  which  it 
dwells. 

To  such  sorrows  of  the  heart,  my  brethren,  it  is  the 
office  of  Religion  to  apply  the  words  of  consolation ;  and 
when  the  first  tumults  of  grief  are  at  an  end,  to  inspire 
the  soul  of  the  mourner  with  loftier  sentiments.  She 
suggests,  in  the  first  place,  that,  in  the  kingdom  of 
God,  there  is  no  loss  of  existence ;  that  the  hand  of 
infinite  wisdom  changes,  indeed,  the  sphere  of  action  in 
■•.vhich  the  rational  soul  is  destined  to  move,  but  never 


in  Affile  tio?i.  166 

deprives  it  of  the  being  which  the  hand  of  Beneficence 
bestowed.  She  points  to  a  higher  world,  in  which  the 
inhabitants  are  *'  as  little  children;''''  and  she  hesitates 
not  to  affirnm,  tfiat  the  soul  of  infant  innocence  finds  its 
way  to  that  region  of  purity,  the  air  of  which  it  seemed 
to  breathe  wliile  yet  below.  She  speaks  here  with  a 
voice  of  confidence  which  may  sometimes  fail  to  be 
inspired,  even  from  the  contemplation  of  a  long  life 
spent  in  the  practice  of  virtue.  The  best  men  have 
contracted  many  failings  in  the  course  of  their  earthly 
trial ;  and  when  we  commit  their  bodies  to  the  dust, 
while  Religion  calls  upon  us  to  look  forward  to  their 
•final  destiny  with  holy  hope,  she  yet  permits  some  fore- 
boding fears  to  cloud  the  brightness  of  the  prospect. 
In  less  favourable  cases,  all  we  can  do  is  to  withdraw 
our  minds  from  the  vices  of  the  departed,  and  rather  to 
fix  them,  with  apprehension  and  purposes  of  amend- 
ment, upon  our  own ;  to  raise  our  thoughts,  at  the  same 
time,  to  the  perfect  goodness  of  God,  which  seeth  the 
secret  springs  of  the  heart,  and  judges  not  as  man 
judges ;  which  will  forgive  whatever  can  be  forgiven, 
and  which  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked. 
But  when  we  follow  to  the  grave  the  body  of  untried 
innocence,  we  at  the  same  time  restore  to  the  Father  of 
spirits  the  soul  which  he  gave,  yet  unpolluted  by  the 
vices  of  time,  and  still  an  inmate  meet  for  eternity. 
When  the  tears  of  nature  are  over,  faith  may  here  look 
up  with  an  unclouded  eye,  and  see  the  Saviour,  whose 
descent  upon  earth  cost  so  many  tears  to  the  mothers 
of  Bethlehem,  now  speaking  comfort  to  the  mothers  of 
his  people,  and  telling  them,  that  he  who  here  below 
*'  suffered  little  children  to  come  unto  him,^^  still  delights 


164  On  Religious  Consolation 

to  throw  around  them  the  arms  of  his  love,  when,  like 
him,  they  have  burst  the  bonds  of  mortality. 

Besides  this  lofty  source  of  consolation  which  Reli- 
gion opens  up  to  afflicted  parents,  she,  in  the  second 
place,  suggests  to  them  some  of  the  wise  purposes 
which  Providence  may  have  in  view  in  this  afflicting 
dispensation.  Although  the  ways  of  Heaven  are  con- 
fessedly dark,  and  although  we  must,  in  many  instances, 
bow  down  in  resignation,  without  pretending  to  ex- 
amine them,  it  is  yet  more  pleasing  when  we  can  dis- 
cover some  of  the  designs  which  may  be  intended,  and 
we  are  thus  more  easily  reconciled  to  the  evils  which 
may  accompany  the  execution  of  them.  In  the  death 
of  children,  Providence  seems,  on  a  hasty  glance,  to  be 
acting  in  a  manner  contradictory  to  its  own  plan ;  to  be 
destroying  life  ere  it  is  well  begun  ;  to  be  depriving  us 
of  blessings  which  we  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have 
tasted ;  and  while  with  one  hand  it  gives,  with  another 
to  be  taking  away.  Let  it  however  be  considered,  that 
it  answers  an  important  purpose  in  the  government  of 
the  world,  to  keep  men  in  mind  of  the  constant  sove- 
reignty of  God,  and  of  his  right  to  the  entire  disposal 
of  the  fate  of  his  creatures.  Let  it  farther  be  recol- 
lected,  that  we  are  prone  to  forget  the  hand  from  which 
our  blessings  flow,  and  that  too  often  we  do  not  discern 
its  agency  till  these  blessings  are  ^vithdrawn.  It  is  thus 
not  an  unpleasing  aspect  of  the  ways  of  Providence,  to 
consider  the  death  of  a  child  as  an  interposition  of  God, 
by  which  he  awakens  the  slumbering  piety  of  the  parent, 
and,  by  depriving  him  of  the  object  of  his  mortal  affec- 
tions, leads  his  thoughts  to  immortalit}^ 


m  Afflictio7i.  165 

We  are  all  well  aware,  my  brethren,  of  the  influence 
of  the  world :  we  know  how  strongly  it  engages  our 
thoughts,  and  debases  the  springs  of  our  actions :  we 
all  know  how  important  it  is  to  have  the  spirits  of  our 
minds  renewed,  and  the  rust  which  gathers  over  them 
cleared  away.  One  of  the  principal  advantages,  per- 
haps, which  arises  from  the  possession  of  children,  is, 
that  in  their  society  the  simplicity  of  our  nature  is  coa- 
stantly  recalled  to  our  view  ;  and  that,  when  we  retura 
from  the  cares  and  thoughts  of  the  world  into  our  do- 
mestic circle,  we  behold  beings  whose  happiness  springs 
from  no  false  estimates  of  worldly  good,  but  from  the 
benevolent  instincts  of  nature.  The  same  moral  advan- 
tage is  often  derived,  in  a  greater  degree,  from  the  me- 
mory of  those  children  who  have  left  us.  Their  simple 
characters  dwell  upon  our  minds  with  a  deeper  impres- 
sion ;  their  least  actions  return  to  our  thoughts  with 
more  force  than  if  we  had  it  still  in  our  power  to  witness 
them  ;  and  they  return  to  us  clothed  in  that  saintly  garb 
which  belongs  to  the  possessors  of  a  higher  existence. 
We  feel  that  there  is  now  a  link  connecting  us  with  a 
purer  and  a  better  scene  of  being  ;  that  a  part  of  our- 
selves has  gone  before  us  into  the  bosom  of  God  ;  and 
that  the  same  happy  creature  which  here  on  earth  show- 
ed us  the  simple  sources  from  which  happiness  springs, 
now  hovers  over  us,  and  scatters  from  its  wings  the 
graces  and  beatitudes  of  eternity. 

To  you,  then,  my  brethren,  who  have  suffered  from 
the  present  visitation  of  Providence,  Religion  thus  un- 
folds  the  sources  of  consolation  and  of  improvement. 
She  calls  upon  you  not  to  mourn  as  those  who  have  no 
hope  ;  to  give  the  children  of  v,honi  you  have  been  de- 


166  On  Religious  Consolation ,  l^c. 

prived  into  the  hands  of  your  and  their  Father;  and 
when  the  first  pangs  of  affliction  are  over,  to  lift  up  your 
thoughts  with  that  faith  toward  him,  which  may  at  last 
enable  you  to  meet  them  in  his  presence  for  ever.  Yet 
while  she  calls  you  not  to  mourn,  she  does  not  ask  you 
to  forget.  This  perhaps  may  be  the  language  of  the 
world.  The  loftier  language  of  religion  is,  that  you 
should  remember  whatever  may  contribute  to  your  pu- 
rity and  virtue ;  that  you  should  sometimes  meditate 
with  holy  emotion  on  those  angel  forms  which  are  gone 
before  you  ;  and  tliat,  amidst  the  temptations  of  the 
world,  you  should  call  to  mind,  that  their  eyes  are  now 
impending  over  you,  and  feel  the  additional  link  which 
binds  you  to  the  higher  destinations  of  your  being. 

To  us,  my  brethren,  over  whose  houses  the  angel  of 
death  may  now  have  passed,  let  not  the  scene  vi^hich  we 
have  witnessed  be  unaccompanied  with  instruction. 
While  we  fall  down  in  gratitude  before  Heaven  for  the 
deliverance  which  we  have  hitherto  experienced,  let  us 
confess  that  it  is  undeserved  ;  that  we  have  not,  as  we 
ought,  blessed  the  giver  of  all  our  good  ;  and  let  us 
henceforth  resolve  to  have  his  goodness  more  constantly 
in  our  thoughts.  Let  us  sympathize  with  our  brethren 
in  affliction,  and  feel  that  their  sorrow  may  soon  be  ours. 
Above  all,  let  us  make  it  our  firm  resolution,  to  train  up 
those  children  whom  God  may  have  spared  to  us,  in  the 
knowledge  of  him  and  of  his  laws,  that  at  whatever  hour 
of  their  future  life  the  call  may  come,  they  may  be  found 
of  him  in  peace,  and  that  we  too  may,  with  them,  glo- 
rifv  him  in  heaven. 


SERMON  XXL 

ON  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION, 


PROV.  xxii.  6. 


**  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  gOy  and  when 
he  is  old  lie  will  not  depart  from  it.''* 

IN  these  words,  my  brethren,  the  wise  man 
points  out  powerfully  the  effects  of  early  education.  As 
the  mind  is  very  liable  to  the  influence  of  habit,  it  is  a 
happy  circumstance  that  it  can  acquire  good  habits  as 
well  as  bad,  and  that  the  infant  heart  can  be  moulded  to 
the  love  of  virtue,  no  less  surely  than  it  may  be  misled 
into  vice  and  disorder.  This  is  a  consideration  which 
affords  both  a  pleasing  view  of  human  nature,  and  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  in  a  practical  light.  It  is  farther 
a  consideration  which  imposes  a  most  forcible  obliga- 
tion  on  parents  and  instructors.  It  suggests  to  them, 
that  to  their  hands  the  fate  of  the  rising  generation  is  in 
a  great  degree  committed  ;  that  they  must  in  no  small 
extent  be  responsible  for  the  future  deviations  of  the 
children  entrusted  to  their  care  ;  and  that,  if  they  would 
have  these  children  walk   in  the  way  in  which  they 


168  0}t  Religious  Education. 

should  go,  the  attainment  of  this  invaluable  object  is  in 
a  great  measure  left  to  themselves. 

The  importance  of  education  in  supplying  the  mind 
with  intellectual  acquisitions,  or  in  adorning  it  with  ac- 
complishments, is  very  generally  acknowledged  and  un- 
derstood :  and  perhaps  the  present  age  is  in  no  respect 
more  distinguished  from  those  which  have  preceded  it, 
than  for  the  systematic  attention  with  which  these  ends 
are  pursued.  The  effects  have  corresponded  with  the  ap- 
plication bestowed  in  producing  them  ;  and  the  general 
prevalence  of  liberal  thought  and  refinement  of  manners 
in  our  day,  affords  a  striking  contrast  to  the  more  con- 
tracted opinions  and  grosser  habits  of  "  our  fathers,  and 
of  the  old  time  before  them."  That  we  have  been 
equally  attentive  to  the  more  important  objects  of  moral 
and  religious  instruction,  I  will  not  take  upon  me  to 
affirm :  I  fear,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  too  often  in  the 
habit  of  permitting  the  minds  of  our  children  to  fall  un- 
der the  dominion  of  accidental  impressions  on  those 
great  subjects,  on  which  their  views  and  feelings  ought 
to  be  most  precise  ;  and,  while  we  omit  no  pains  in  im- 
proving their  powers,  or  adding  to  their  accomplish- 
ments, we  too  frequently  throw  out  of  the  account  that 
higher  wisdom,  which  may  prepare  them  to  be  virtuous 
here,  and  heirs  of  eternity  hereafter.  This  most  neces- 
sary branch  of  education,  my  brethren,  it  is  the  duty  of 
this  place  to  recommend ;  and  I  am  naturally  led  into 
these  reflections  by  the  return  of  the  present  season*, 
in  which  the  young  of  our  congregation  are  brought 
here  to  show  their  acquaintance  with  that  simple  form 

*  Season  of  Lent. 


On  Religious  Echication.  169 

of  Christian  instruction  compiled  by  some  of  the  great- 
est fathers  of  our  church,  who,  while  they  were  employ- 
ing their  mighty  powers  in  shaking  the  pillars  of  Romish 
superstition,  could  yet  find  opportunity,  like  the  master 
whom  they  served,  to  "  suffer  little  children  to  come  unto 
them.'' 

The  catechism  which  is  commonly  taught  in  this 
church  contains  a  short  and  beautiful  compend  of  Chris- 
tian  faith  and  duty  ;  and  it  is  pleasing  to  know  tliat  the 
young  are  regularly  instructed  in  it.  The  ministers  of 
religion,  however,  have  perhaps  Jittle  opportunity  of 
knowing  more  than  the  simple  fact ;  they  cannot  judge 
accurately  of  the  degree  of  weight  which  the  infant  mind 
attaches  to  the  truths  of  which  it  is  thus  informed.  It 
is  more  properly  the  business  of  parents  to  discover 
whether  their  children  are  really  making  any  progress  in 
religious  knowledge,  and  in  impressions  of  duty  ;  and 
little  more,  perhaps,  can  be  done  here,  than  to  enforce 
upon  parents  their  obligations  of  this  nature,  and  to  fa- 
cilitate the  means  by  which  they  may  carry  tiiese  obliga- 
tions into  effect. 

With  these  views,  my  brethren,  I  propose  to  dedicate 
the  present,  and  at  least  one  other  discourse,  to  some 
explanatory  observations  on  the  chiu'ch  catechism,  in 
which,  while  I  direct  my  thouglits  chiefly  to  parents  and 
instructors,  I  shall  at  the  same  time  endeavour  to  make 
myself  easily  intelligible  to  the  young  themselves. 

The  first  circumstance  which  presents  itself  to  us  in 
opening  this  short  summary  of  religion,  is  the  vow 
which  ^vas  entered  into  for  the  child  before  he  was  him- 
self capable  of  forming  an}'  conception  of  the  subject  to 
which  it  related.     The  circumstance  is  striking-  and  in- 


170  On  Religious  Educatton. 

structive.  It  shows  us,  in  the  first  place,  that  there  was 
BO  period  of  our  existence  in  which  we  were  not  under 
the  eye  and  the  cognizance  of  religion  ;  that  the  spirit 
of  our  Lord  hovered  over  us  while  we  were  yet  in  the 
cradle ;  and  that,  when  the  waters  of  baptism  were  pour- 
ed upon  our  heads,  a  solemn  vow  was  made  upon  earth, 
and  recorded  in  heaven,  that  we  should  become  "  mem- 
bers of  Christ,  and  children  of  God."  It,  secondly, 
reminds  those,  to  whom  the  care  of  the  young  is  com- 
mitted, of  the  strong  obligation  under  which  they  lie,  to 
provide  for  their  moral  and  religious  instruction.  It  re- 
minds them,  that,  besides  the  obligations  of  nature  and 
conscience,  there  is  a  particular  and  express  vow  entered 
into  with  God,  which  it  rests  with  them  to  see  fulfilled; 
and  that,  when  they  neglect  this  important  duty,  they 
are  not  only  deaf  to  the  voice  of  the  heart,  and  of  moral 
reason,  but  are  provoking  the  wrath  of  an  insulted  Deity. 
In  the  third  place,  the  baptismal  vow  reminds  the 
young,  that  on  some  points  their  minds  are  not  left  at 
perfect  liberty ;  that  there  is  a  sacred  obligation  upon 
every  human  being,  of  which  the  vow  made  at  baptism 
is  an  external  sign,  to  direct  his  thoughts  and  actions  to 
the  best  ends ;  and  whatever  they  may  afterwards  be 
told  of  the  native  freedom  and  independence  of  their 
minds,  this  vow  calls  to  their  recollection,  that  they  can 
never  be  set  free  from  the  obligation  of  believing  what 
is  true,  and  of  doing  what  is  right.  Instead,  therefore, 
of  that  confident  spirit  with  which  the  young  sometimes 
are  tempted  to  follow  out  their  own  untutored  ways  of 
thinking  and  acting,  a  much  more  humble  and  amiable 
spirit  is  insinuated  into  their  hearts  in  this  form  of  in- 
struction  ;   and  to  the  question,   "  Dost  thou  not  think 


On  Religious  Education,  171 

Uiat  thou  art  bound  to  believe,  and  to  do  as  has  been 
promised  for  thee  ?"  they  are  taught  to  reply,  "  Yes, 
verily ;  and  by  God's  help  so  I  will.  And  I  heartily 
thank  our  heavenly  Father,  that  he  hath  called  me  to 
this  state  of  salvation,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour. 
And  I  pray  unto  God  to  give  me  his  grace,  that  I  may 
continue  in  the  same  unto  my  life's  end." 

The  second  circumstance  which  is  brought  before  us 
relates  to  the  particular  engagements  comprehended  un- 
der the  baptismal  vow.  Three  things,  we  are  told,  are 
promised  and  vowed  for  children  in  baptism.  "  First, 
that  they  should  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works ; 
the  pomps  and  vanity  of  this  wicked  world  ;  and  all  the 
sinful  lusts  of  the  flesh.  Secondly,  that  they  should 
believe  all  the  articles  of  the  Christian  faith.  And, 
thirdly,  that  they  should  keep  God's  holy  will  and  com- 
mandments, and  walk  in  the  same  all  the  days  of  their 
lives."  With  regard  to  the  first  of  these  considerations, 
it  may,  perhaps,  at  first  sight,  seem  unwise  to  bring 
before  the  imaginations  of  the  young  the  existence  of 
wickedness  which  their  own  innocence  does  not  naturally 
lead  them  to  discover  ;  and  certainly  it  would  be  un- 
wise and  pernicious  to  present  tliis  flsct  to  them  in  any 
form  which  may  have  a  tendency  to  cloud  tlieir  imagina- 
tions, or  to  depress  their  spirits.  Such,  however,  is  the 
condition  of  man  in  this  world,  that  it  is  probably  impos- 
sible to  keep  concealed,  even  from  the  mind  of  a  child, 
the  existence  of  vice  in  some  form  or  other.  In  the 
language  of  scripture,  man  has  eaten  of  the  tree  of  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  and  has  thus  subjected 
himself  to  the  necessity  of  being  warned  to  avoid  evil, 
as  well  as  of  being  animated  to  pursue  good.     It  is  in 


172  On  Religious  Education, 

fact,  therefore,  one  among  many  proofs  of  the  unsophis- 
ticated  wisdom  of  ancient  times,  that  the  compilers  of 
the  catechism  have  touched,  though  very  lightly  and 
delicately,  upon  this  melancholy  circumstance  in  the 
condition  of  human  nature,  and  have  thought  it  incum- 
bent upon  them  to  warn  the  young,  even  at  the  first 
dawn  of  reason,  against  the  malignity  and  infamy  of  sin, 
no  less  than  to  elevate  their  views  to  the  lofty  objects  of 
faith  and  of  duty. 

Secondly,  it  is  engaged  for  the  infant  at  baptism,  that 
he  shall  believe  all  the  articles  of  the  Christian  faith. 
In  inculcating  these  upon  the  minds  of  children,  the 
method  to  be  adopted  seems  very  admirably  pointed  out 
in  our  catechism.  To  the  request,  "  Rehearse  the 
articles  of  thy  belief,"  the  answer  is  simply  the  repeti- 
tion of  that  short  form  of  "  sou7id  words ^^'*  commonly 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Apostles'  Creed.  This 
creed,  you  will  observe,  contains  nothing  more  than  a 
bare  statement  of  facts,  without  any  attempt  being  made 
to  deduce  from  them  points  of  doctrine.  Such,  my 
brethren,  seems  to  be  clearly  the  method  in  which 
children  ought  to  be  trained  in  the  truths  of  religion  ; 
and  when  this  method  is  adopted,  there  seems  to  be  no 
such  difficulty,  as  is  sometimes  apprehended,  in  giving 
them  a  competent  acquaintance  with  these  invaluable 
truths.  Some  ingenious  men  have  conceived,  that  re- 
ligion was  a  subject  totally  beyond  the  reach  of  child- 
Iiood,  and  that  it  ought  only  to  be  brought  before  the 
view  of  the  human  mind,  when  it  has  attained  its  full 
powers  of  reason.  Without  stating  some  very  obvious 
objections  to  this  scheme,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  remark, 
that  it  is  certainly  not  the  course  pointed  out  by  nature. 


On  Religious  Education,  173 

Parents,  who  themselves  possess  religious  sentiments, 
are  certainly  prompted  by  nature  to  communicate  these 
to  their  children  ;  and  if  the  voice  of  nature  be  listened 
to,  it  will  direct  them  likewise  in  the  course  which  they 
ought  to  take  in  doing  so. 

With  respect  to  the  first  article  of  the  creed,  for 
instance,  the  foundation  of  all  religion  whatever,  "  I 
believe  in  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  heaven 
and  earth" — there  are  surely  many  simple  methods  in 
which  a  wise  instructor  may  insinuate  this  great  truth 
into  the  dawning  reason  of  childhood.  Some  occasions 
must  present  themselves,  in  which  the  mind  of  a  child 
may  be  led  to  recognize  the  traces  of  wisdom  and 
benevolence  in  nature,  and  may  be  taught  to  ascribe  its 
own  little  pleasures  and  enjoyments  to  the  bounty  of  an 
unseen  benefactor.  The  great  volume  of  creation  is 
open  to  every  eye  ;  and,  while  it  contains  pages  which 
may  exercise  the  highest  powers  of  created  inteUigence, 
it  likewise  abounds  with  innumerable  passages,  in  which 
even  the  eye  of  childhood  may  discover  the  character 
of  its  author.  It  is  one  of  the  improvements  of  modern 
education,  that  means  have  been  found  to  make  chil- 
dren soon  acquainted  with  the  simpler  parts  of  the 
economy  of  nature  ;  with  the  habits,  for  instance,  of  the 
lower  animals,  and  with  many  of  those  natural  produc- 
tions which  minister  to  the  pleasures  and  to  the  uses  of 
mankind.  Is  it  not  possible,  in  the  midst  of  these  les- 
sons,  to  point  out  to  the  child  the  secret  finger  of  wis- 
dom and  goodness  ;  and  while  his  mind  is  gradually 
opening  to  the  reception  of  knowledge,  at  the  same 
time  to  waim  his  little  heart  with  tlic  first  emotions  of 
piety  ? 


174  On  Religious  Education. 

The  remaining  articles  of  the  creed  relate  to  the  facts 
of  revelation,  which,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  may  be  in- 
culcated upon  young  minds  in  an  easy  connection  with 
the  natural  sentiments  of  religion.  When  a  child  is 
once  informed  of  the  superintending  care  of  a  Father  in 
heaven,  he  will  naturally  be  disposed  to  listen  to  any 
information  which  can  be  given  him,  concerning  the 
dealings  of  this  Almighty  Father  with  the  children  of 
men  ;  and  although,  in  the  volume  of  the  scriptures, 
there  are  many  passages  which  are  very  far  beyond  the 
comprehension  of  children,  and  which,  therefore,  ought 
not  to  be  put  into  their  hands,  there  are  innumerable 
others  which  almost  seem  to  be  written  for  the  sake  of 
children.  Such  are  some  of  the  simple  narratives  in 
the  Old  Testament :  the  history  of  Joseph  and  his  bre- 
thren ;  the  early  part  of  the  history  of  Moses  ;  some 
particulars  in  the  history  of  David ;  and  many  other 
detached  passages,  which  make  a  povvcrful  impression 
on  a  youthful  imagination,  and  convey  religious  and 
moral  truth  in  the  most  pleasing  of  ail  forms.  The 
history  of  our  Lord,  as  it  is  related  in  the  gospels,  is  in 
like  manner  full  of  interest  to  the  youngest  minds  ;  his 
manner  of  conveying  instruction  is,  for  the  most  part, 
suited  to  their  years  ;  his  parables  are  little  stories, 
which  they  can  easily  remember;  circumstances  in  his 
miracles  which  Tuay,  perhaps,  perplex  and  astonish  per- 
sons of  advanced  years,  serve  only  to  captivate  their 
fancy  ;  and  it  is  not  difficult  for  a  prudent  instructor,  if 
they  should  sometimes  be  disposed  to  ask  questions 
Avhich  cannot  be  answered  in  a  satisfactory  manner  to 
them,  or,  perhaps,  to  any  human  being,  to  lead  their 


On  Religious  Education.  175 

thoughts  to  those  circumstances  which  they  can  fully 
comprehend. 

In  this  branch  of  religious  instruction,  there  is  one 
view,  my  brethren,  to  which  the  minds  of  children,  and 
of  the  young  in  general,  ought  to  be  particularly  direct- 
ed ;  I  mean,  to  the  character  of  our  Saviour.  His  con- 
nection with  a  higher  nature  than  ours,  renders  him  an 
object  of  peculiar  reverence  to  the  young  mind,  to  which 
he  is  first  introduced;  but  the  simplicity,  and  the  gentle- 
ness of  his  virtues,  render  him  still  more  an  object  of  love 
and  confidence.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  one  of  the  least  won- 
derful circumstances  in  this  divine  character,  that  while 
it  is  encompassed  with  the  rays  of  Deity,  and,  in  all  the 
trying  circumstances  of  human  jbrtune,  carries  a  form 
so  lofty  and  commanding,  it  is  yet  quite  level  to  the 
feelings,  and  to  the  understanding  of  the  merest  child. 
The  fact  is,  I  believe,  it  is  better  understood  by  children 
than  by  ourselves  ;  from  this  plain  reason,  that  in  some 
of  its  most  striking  peculiarities,  their  minds  are  as  yet 
less  distantly  removed  fronftt. 

My  object,  in  recommending  this  part  of  Christian  iii» 
struction  in  a  peculiar  manner  to  parents  and  teachers, 
is  not  merely  because  it  is  so  simple,  and  so  very  full  of 
moral  and  religious  wisdom,  but  from  another  reason. 
We  are  very  apt  to  complain,  my  brethren,  of  the  pro- 
gress of  infidel  opinions  among  the  young,  when  they 
go  out  into  the  world,  and  begin  to  speculate  for  them- 
selves.  We  do  not,  however,  always  see  very  distinct- 
ly the  root  from  which  such  opinions  take  their  rise.  It 
is  not  so  much  by  the  arguments  of  iniidtl  writers,  which. 
\-erv  often,  thcv  do  not  vmderstand  ;   nor  even  bv  the 


176  On  Religious  Education, 

poignancy  of  their  wit  and  satire,  that  young  men  are 
so  frequently  tempted  to  relinquish  all  faith  in  the  reli- 
gion of  their  fathers.  Infidelity  owes  its  conquests  in 
our  days,  I  am  induced  to  believe,  to  a  cause  more 
honourable  to  human  nature,  to  the  impression  made 
upon  the  minds  of  the  young,  by  the  specious  or  real 
virtues  of  those  by  whom  that  bad  cause  has  unfor- 
tunately been  supported.  These  writers  commonly  as- 
sume a  high  tone  of  liberal  sentiment ;  many  of  their 
works  are  put  into  the  hands  of  the  young,  as  the  stand- 
ard books  from  which  very  useful  information  is  to  be 
obtained  in  the  course  of  their  studies ;  and  when,  as  is 
quite  natural,  they  inquire  into  the  private  history  of 
these  writers,  they  frequently  discover  them  to  have 
been  men  of  amiable  and  irreproachable  manners.  In 
the  mean  time,  in  what  aspect  does  Christianity  appear 
to  them  ?  Too  often  in  no  other  light  than  as  a  col- 
lection of  inexplicable  doctrines,  to  which  they  never 
attached  any  distinct  idea ;  when  they  examine  its  his- 
tory down  to  the  present  Ircy,  they  too  often  have  it 
represented  to  them  in  no  other  view,  than  as  the  source 
of  wars,  and  vices,  and  bigotry ;  instead  of  seeing  in  its 
ministers  the  genuine  spirit  of  glory  to  God  on  high, 
and  peace  and  good  will  to  men,  the  page  of  history 
exhibits  the  priesthood  to  their  eye  in  all  the  dark 
colours  of  pride,  and  violence,  and  gloom,  and  hypo- 
crisy. If  our  sons,  then,  my  brethren,  abandon  Chris- 
tiani'ty,  it  is  because  they  never  knew  what  Christianity 
is ;  because  they  are  ignorant  of  its  spirit,  and  of  its 
genuine  influence  on  the  heart.  If  they  are  misled  by 
their  admiration  of  infidel  philosophers,  it  is  because 


On  Religious  Education.  177 

their  young  hearts  were  never  impressed,  as  they  might 
have  been,  by  the  character  of  him  to  whom  Christianity 
owes  its  origin. 

Were  this  character  once  fairly  fixed  in  their  minds, 
it  would,  I  will  venture  to  affirm,  continue  to  maintain 
for  ever,  in  their  apprehension,  its  just  and  evident 
claims  of  superiority  over  every  other  name,  either 
ancient  or  modern,  among  those  who  have  at  any  time 
undertaken  to  enlighten,  or  to  reform  the  world  ;  and  if 
they  also  were  tempted  to  go  away,  they  would  then 
say,  in  the  affectionate  language  of  Peter,  "  Lord^  to 
whom  shall  rue  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  xvoi'ds  of  eternal 
life.  And  we  believe,  and  are  sure^  that  thou  art  that 
Christy  the  Son  oftJie  living  God.'''* 

I  have  already,  my  brethren,  occupied  your  attention 
much  too  long  ;  and  shall  only  add  in  conclusion,  that 
while  you  are  thus  engaged  in  instructing  the  minds  of 
your  children  in  the  simpler  views  of  natural  and  reveal- 
ed religion,  you  will  greatly  improve  your  own  ideas  and 
sentiments  upon  these  subjects;  you  will  discover  what 
in  your  private  meditations,  or  in  the  writings  of  men, 
you  may  not  always  discover,  how  plain  and  unper- 
plexed  a  thing  religion  is ;  and  when,  in  the  language 
of  our  Lord,  "  you  suffer  little  children  to  come  unto 
you,''^  you  will  then  best  see,  what  is  "  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  /" 


SERMON  XXII. 

ON  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION 


JOHN,  xiv.  15. 

^^  If  ye  love  me^  keep  my  coftimandments.^^ 

THAT  faith  is  nugatory,  unless  it  be  productive 
of  good  works,  or,  in  other  words,  that  faith  can  in  no 
other  way  be  known  but  by  its  fruits,  is  a  truth  so  evi- 
dent to  natural  reason  and  common  sense,  that  it  would 
never  have  been  called  in  question  by  the  wildest  enthu- 
siast, unless,  from  some  error  in  their  religious  educa- 
tion, men  had  beei\  accustomed  to  separate  in  their 
minds  the  doctrines  of  religion  from  its  practical  influ- 
ence, and  to  rest  their  thoughts  on  the  former  of  these, 
unaccompanied  with  any  reference  to  the  latter.  It  is  this 
error  which  has  infused  into  religious  controversy  so  dark 
a  spirit  of  malignity  and  virulence,  which  has  disgraced 
the  Christian  church  in  every  age,  by  vain  attempts  to 
penetrate  into  mysteries  totally  removed  from  the  reach 
of  the  human  understanding,  and  which  has  clouded  in 
a  veil  of  unmeaning  words,  even  from  the  eye  of  child- 
hood, those  simple  truths  which  at  once  meet  with  the 
assent  of  the  uncorrupted  mind  to  which  they  are  pro- 


On  Religious  Education,  179 

posed,  and  which  lead  so  naturally  to  the  love  and  the 
practice  of  goodness. 

To  obviate  this  error,  and  the  fatal  consequences  to 
which  it  leads,  I  recommended  it  to  you,  my  brethren, 
in  a  former  discourse,  to  fix  the  views  of  your  children 
on  those  parts  of  religious  instruction  which  are  quite 
plain,  and  which  must  be  interesting  to  them,  leaving, 
till  they  arrive  at  a  maturer  age,  those  doctrines  which 
they  cannot  now  comprehend,  and  which  to  them  have 
no  practical  consequences.  It  was  the  practice  of  St. 
Paul  to  feed  "  the  babes  itt  Christ  xvith  milk^  and  not 
with  meat:''''  a  maxim,  which,  if  Christian  instructors 
had  in  general  been  as  anxious  to  imitate  the  profound 
sagacity  and  the  liberal  spirit  of  this  great  apostle,  as  to 
perplex  themselves  and  their  disciples  with  those  pas- 
sages in  his  writings  which  even  St.  Peter  acknow- 
ledges are  hard  to  be  understood,  would  have  freed  the 
world  from  much  bigotry,  much  fanaticism,  and  much 
infidelity. 

The  compilers  of  our  catechism,  having,  in  this 
spirit,  instructed  the  young  in  the  first  plain  truths  of 
religion,  proceed  to  render  these  truths  important  to 
them,  by  showing  their  connection  with  the  duties  of 
life.  They  have,  first  of  all,  pointed  out  some  of  the 
most  striking  of  these  duties,  in  that  form  of  words 
whicli  was  of  old  delivered  to  the  people  of  the  Jews  ; 
and  they  afterwards  concentrate  the  spirit  of  the  ten 
commandments  under  the  two  heads,  of  duty  towards 
God,  and  duty  towards  our  neighbour.  The  general 
result  of  the  whole  is  still  more  shortly  expressed  by 
our  Saviour  in  the  well-known  passage,  "  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  Godj  with  all  thy  hearty  and  with  all 


180  Oil  Religious  Education, 

thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is  the  Jirst  and 
great  commandment.  And  the  second  is  like  unto  it: 
thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  On  these  two 
commandments  hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets. ^^ 

There  is  something  in  the  character  of  childhood 
which  easily  receives  the  impression  of  this  law  of  love. 
When  the  infant  mind  is  elevated  to  a  sense  of  Deity, 
it  naturally  recognises  in  the  Supreme  Being  the  image 
of  parental  affection ;  and,  when  it  is  not  misled  by  an 
unhappy  education,  it  is  disposed  to  look  up  to  God 
with  that  "  love  which  casteth  out  fear.''''  It  is  at  this 
period  easily  impressed  with  the  feeling,  that  to  "  serve 
him  truly  all  the  days  of  our  lives"  is  the  first  of  duties, 
and  one  which  must  render  us  happy  in  the  performance. 
In  like  manner,  a  benevolent  interest  in  the  good  of  our 
fellow- creatures  is  easily  recognised  by  a  young  mind 
as  the  dictate  of  the  heart ;  and,  whenever  any  circum- 
stance is  mentioned  which  may  excite  its  compassion, 
or  whenever  its  sense  of  justice  is  awakened,  it  will 
often  be  found  to  possess  these  sentiments  in  much 
higher  perfection  than  after  it  has  been  trained  in  the 
discipline  of  the  world.  It  is  accordingly  of  great  im- 
portance in  education  to  exercise  the  moral  sensibility 
of  children ;  to  state  to  them  imaginary  cases,  or  to  take 
advantage  of  real  incidents,  by  which  their  moral  judg- 
ments may  be  exerted,  and  by  which  their  attention 
may  be  withdrawn  from  their  own  selfish  feelings,  to  a 
quick  sympathy  with  the  feelings  of  others.  But,  on 
these  general  principles  of  religious  and  moral  educa- 
tion, I  cannot  pretend,  my  brethren,  to  afford  you  any 
instruction ;   and  I  am  the  less  induced  to  enter  upon 


On  Religious  Education,  181 

the  subject,  when  I  recollect  the  many  excellent  works* 
which  have  been  written  upon  it,  and  which  are  in  the 
hands  of  every  parent. 

Among  the  ten  commandments  there  are  two  which, 
in  a  more  peculiar  manner,  interest  the  minds  of  the 
young, — that  which  enforces  the  observance  of  the  Sab- 
bath, and  that  which  requires  duty  to  parents.  They 
are  the  commandments  which  have  most  efficacy  in 
guiding  their  steps  into  the  paths  of  piety  and  virtue. 
The  institution  of  the  Sabbath  is  the  great  means  by 
which  a  sense  of  religion  is  kept  up  in  the  world.  It  is 
a  standing  memorial  of  the  divine  administration  ;  and 
cannot  fail  to  impress,  even  the  youngest  mind,  with 
feelings  of  reverence  for  that  great  unseen  Power,  be- 
fore whom  the  children  of  men  are  taus^ht  with  one  ac- 
cord  to  bow,  and  for  the  sake  of  whose  worship  a  stop 
is  regularly  put  to  the  common  occupations  and  amuse- 
ments of  life.  It  is  under  the  influence  of  such  feelings 
that  religious  impressions  spring  up  at  first  in  the  hu- 
man heart;  and  the  most  common  symptom  of  their  de- 
parture is  shown  in  a  disregard  for  that  sacred  institu- 
tion by  which  they  were  originally  fostered.  Let  it, 
therefore,  my  brethren,  be  an  object  of  your  care,  to  im- 
press the  minds  of  the  young  with  a  reverence  for  tliis 
sacred  day.  Let  them  be  early  accustomed  to  apply  it 
to  the  purposes  for  which  it  was  designed;  to  such  me- 
ditations upon  God  and  his  laws  as  are  suited  to  tlieir 
opening  minds  ;  and  whenever  they  are  capable  of  the 
exercise,  let  them  on  this  day  join  you  in  your  public 
and  private  devotions. 

*  Mrs.  Hamilton,  IVIiss  Edgcwoiih,  &c. 


182  On  lieligious  Education. 

At  the  same  time,  be  careful  that  they  associate  with 
the  return  of  the  Sabbath  no  ideas  of  gloomy  restraint. 
Bear  always  in  mind,  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for 
man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath  ;  and,  while  on  this 
day  you  lead  their  hearts  to  the  feelings  of  piety,  at  the 
same  time  show  them,  that  the  day  which  God  has  set 
apart  for  himself,  is  a  gift  of  unspeakable  mercy  to  man. 
Show  them,  upon  this  day,  the  labourer  reposing  from 
his  toil,  and  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  and  in  the  house 
of  his  God,  feeling,  notwithstanding  the  hardships  of  his 
humble  condition,  that  he  too  possesses  the  best  bless- 
ings of  life,  and  the  well-grounded  hopes  of  futurity. 
Show  them,  upon  this  day,  even  the  lower  animals  par- 
taking in  the  general  repose,  and  the  same  watchful 
goodness  which  gives  relief  to  the  man-servant  and  the 
maid-servant,  providing  likewise  for  the  comfort  of  the 
cattle.  If  they  are  required  on  this  day  to  suspend  the 
ardour  of  their  common  amusements,  yet  show  them,  by 
your  own  example,  that  there  are  occupations  suited  to 
it,  which  may  fully  interest  and  employ  their  minds. 
Carry  them  along  with  you  to  visit  the  houses  of  pover- 
ty ;  let  them  witness  the  joy  and  the  gratitude  of  relieved 
indigence ;  and  impress  them  with  the  feeling,  that  they 
are  then  most  truly  worshipping  God,  when  they  are  his 
ministers  of  good  to  man.  To  minds  thus  early  trained 
in  the  true  spirit  of  the  Sabbath,  that  day  will  through 
life  continue  to  return  with  a  cheerful  and  animating 
aspect ;  and,  instead  of  becoming  a  source  of  weariness, 
as  it  too  often  is  to  the  higher  ranks  of  society,  or  of 
being  profaned  by  unsuitable  cares  and  amusements,  it 
will  for  ever  protect  them  from  the  contagion  of  an  ir- 


On  Religious  Education.  183 

religious  and  worldly    spirit,  and  will  afford  riicm  a 
happy  relaxation  from  the  common  business  of  life. 

The  commandment  which  recommends  duty  to  pa- 
rents, is  placed  immediately  after  those  which  relate  to 
our  religious  duties,  and  is  with  much  propriety  put  at 
the  head  of  the  moral  law.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  moral 
duty  which  resembles  religion  more  nearly  than  any  of 
the  others,  and,  probably  for  this  reason,  was  in  ancient 
times  known  by  the  name  of  piety. >  It  is,  indeed, 
pleasing  when  we  look  into  the  history  of  the  heathen 
world,  to  discover  the  force  and  authority  which  was 
attributed  to  this  obligation ;  and  while,  in  their  religion, 
WQ  are  shocked  with  the  spectacle  of  the  most  blind 
and  melancholy  errors,  to  find  that  they  Vv^ere  yet  in 
possession  of  a  principle  which  might,  in  some  degree, 
stand  in  the  room  of  religion.  This  duty  is  what,  of 
all  others,  the  young  can  most  distinctly  comprehend. 
They  are  inured  to  the  habits  which  it  requires,  before 
the  obligation  itself  can  be  impressed  on  their  minds. 
It  is  a  duty  to  which  nature  leads  them,  as  well  as  reli- 
gion, and  which,  when  it  influences  them  as  it  ought, 
must  have  the  happiest  consequences  upon  all  their 
conduct.  The  truest  honour  which  can  be  shown  to 
parents  is  by  obedience,  and  a  ready  inclination  even  to 
anticipate  their  commands.  This  leads  to  the  practice 
of  all  virtue.  The  sacred  regard  to  parental  authority, 
w  hen  once  it  has  become  a  habit  of  the  mind,  is  after- 
wards transferred  with  ease  to  the  authority  of  consci- 
ence and  of  God. 

To  these  imperfect  observations  on  the  laws  of  duty 
I  shall  only  add,  that  the  best  precepts  will  have  little 
influence  on  the  minds  of  your  children,   unless  the}- 


184  On  Religions  Education, 

are  accompanied  with  your  own  example.  Let  them 
see,  my  brethren^  that  you  are  yourselves  lovers  of  God 
and  of  goodness,  and  your  precepts  will  then  have  an 
influence  beyond  your  own  expectations ;  and  even 
while  you  give  no  precepts  in  Avords,  your  lives  will 
give  them  for  you.  How  should  they  believe  in  God, 
fear  him,  and  love  him  with  all  their  heart,  and  mind, 
and  strength,  if  you,  who  instruct  them  to  do  so,  seem 
indifferent  to  his  laws,  and  regardless  of  his  institu- 
tions? Or  how  should  they  honour  their  father  and 
their  mother,  if  you  endeavour  not  to  exhibit  characters 
which  they  may  honour?  If  you,  in  your  own  conduct, 
are  worthy  of  honour,  your  influence  with  your  children 
will  not  die  with  yourselves.  When  you  are  in  your 
graves,  and  when  your  direct  authority  over  them  is  at 
an  end,  your  venerable  forms  will  still  seem  to  rise  up 
before  them,  and  they  will  still,  in  the  hours  of  trial  and 
temptation,  hear  your  voices  calling  them  into  the  paths 
of  purity  and  virtue. 

That  part  of  the  catechism  which  is  adapted  to  the 
instruction  of  children  concludes  with  the  important 
and  interesting  subject  of  prayer.  The  observations 
which  afterwards  follow  on  the  sacraments  are  intended 
for  those  who  are  advanced  to  that  period,  when  they 
may  take  upon  themselves,  in  confirmation,  their  bap- 
tismal engagements,  and  are  preparing  to  receive  the 
sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper.  Upon  these  points  I 
may,  on  some  future  occasion,  address  you  ;  at  present, 
I  conclude  with  one  or  two  remarks  on  the  subject  of 
prayer,  which  is  opened  so  simply  and  beautifully  in 
the  following  words: — "  My  good  child,  know  this, 
that  thou  art  not  able  to  do  these  things  of  thyself,  nor 


On  Religious  Education,  185 

to  walk  in  the  commandments  of  God,  and  to  serve  him, 
without  his  special  grace,  which  thou  must  learn  at  all 
times  to  call  for  by  diligent  prayer.  Let  me  hear,  there- 
fore, if  thou  canst  say  the  Lord's  prayer." 

The  prayer  which  follows,  my  brethren,  we  are  well 
acquainted  with.  It  is  the  prayer  which  our  Lord  taught 
his  disciples,  and  in  every  age  of  the  church  it  has  been 
received  as  the  most  perfect  form  in  which  men  can  ad- 
dress their  Father  in  heaven.  In  our  present  view,  it  is 
the  prayer  which  we  teach  our  children ;  and  it  is  not 
one  of  the  least  of  its  beauties,  that,  while  it  compre- 
hends all  the  petitions  which  are  useful  to  men,  it  is  ex- 
pressed in  so  very  few  and  plain  words,  that  it  is  quite 
level  to  the  feelings  and  understandings  of  children. 

Of  prayer,  in  general,  it  may  be  said,  that  it  is  an  em- 
ployment to  which  the  infant  mind  naturally  applies  it- 
self, and  it  is  one  which  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  purify 
the  springs  of  religion  from  gloom  and  apprehension. 
The  habit  of  making  our  wants  known  to  God  in  prayer 
can  only  be  learned  successfully  in  our  early  years  : 
when  we  advance  in  life,  we  have  too  litde  religious 
simplicity  to  apply  ourselves  to  it  with  unwavering  faith. 
It  is  the  child  only  who  never  disputes  the  efficacy  of 
prayer,  and  has  a  full  feeling  of  the  force  of  our  Saviour's 
words,  that  as  "  Jiis  Father  xvill  not  give  him  a  stone 
when  he  asks  for  bread ;  much  less  will  his  Father  in 
heaven  refuse  to  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him.'''' 
The  habit  of  prayer  is,  at  the  same  time,  we  all  know, 
of  the  utmost  importance,  both  for  supplying  us  with 
strength  in  the  performance  of  our  duty,  and  for  infus- 
ing comfort  into  our  hearts  in  the  hours  of  adversity. 

2  A 


186  On  Religious  £ducatton. 

Close,  then,  my  brethren,  as  you  are  here  directed, 
your  instructions  to  your  children,  with  teaching  them 
how  to  pray  ;  and  now,  let  us,  along  with  them,  "  de- 
sire our  Lord  God,  our  heavenly  Father,  who  is  the 
giver  of  all  goodness,  to  send  his  grace  unto  us,  and  to 
all  people,  that  we  may  worship  him,  serve  him,  and 
obey  him,  as  we  ought  to  do.  And  let  us  pray  unto 
God,  that  he  will  send  us  all  things  that  be  needful,  both 
for  our  souls  and  bodies  ;  and  that  he  will  be  merciful 
unto  us,  and  forgive  us  our  sins  ;  and  that  it  will  please 
him  to  save  and  defend  us  in  all  dangers,  ghostly  and 
bodily  ;  and  that  he  will  keep  us  from  all  sin  and  wicked- 
ness, and  from  our  ghostly  enemy,  and  from  everlasting 
death.  These  things  let  us  trust  that  he  will  do  of  his 
mercy  and  goodness,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'* 


SERMON  XXIIL 

ON  RELIGIOUS  RITES. 


1  COR.  xi.  26. 


*'  For  as  oft  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye 
do  show  the  Lord'*s  death  till  he  come^,'*^ 

CHRISTIANITY  is  in  nothing  more  remark- 
able,  than  for  the  simplicity  by  which  it  is  character- 
ized. In  point  of  faith,  it  requires  the  submission  of 
the  heart  to  the  reception  of  divine  truth,  much  more 
than  any  peculiar  capacity  for  understanding  abstruse 
doctrine;  and  where  men  are  willing  to  receive  instruc- 
tion,  it  will  always  be  supplied  them  in  a  sufficient 
degree  for  securing  the  great  object  of  religion,  the 
salvation  of  their  souls.  In  point  of  morality  and  prac- 
tice, Christianity  holds  out  to  men  the  most  sublime 
and  purest  lessons ;  it,  at  the  same  time,  speaks  to 
them  as  they  are  men,  and,  making  allowance  for  the 
frailty  of  their  natures,  it  enjoins  them  to  do  their  best, 
and  to  trust  that  their  imperfect  endeavours  will  be  ren- 
dered acceptable  with  God,  through  the  perfect  merits 
of  one  who  lived  and  died  for  their  good. 

*  Preached  before  the  Communion. 


188  On  Religions  Rites ^ 

The  same  character  extends  to  the  external  rites  and 
ordinances  of  Christianity.  They  are  quite  simple, 
easy  to  be  performed,  and  such  as  must  give  joy,  in- 
stead of  trouble,  in  the  performance,  where  the  heart  is 
at  all  affected  with  the  serious  impressions  of  religion. 
Thus  the  institution  of  the  Sabbath,  one  day  in  seven 
on  which  man  and  beast  are  permitted  to  rest  from 
their  labour,  and  a  pause  is  put  to  the  ordinary  business 
of  the  world  ;  on  which,  in  some  measure,  all  distinc- 
tions are  removed ;  and  all  men,  the  high  and  low,  the 
rich  and  poor,  seem  to  occupy  the  same  place,  that  of 
creatures  bending  before  the  throne  of  their  Creator ;  a 
day  on  which,  in  the  Christian  institution,  nothing 
heavy  is  imposed  upon  men ;  *'  no  burdens  hard  to  be^ 
borne  i'''*  but  the  simple  offerings  of  praise  and  thanks- 
giving, and  of  prayer  from  a  pure  heart,  are  alone  re- 
quired from  all  who  come  before  their  Maker,  depend- 
ing on  the  intercessions  of  their  common  Mediator ; — 
what  institution  could  possibly  have  been  devised,  more 
free  from  vain  pomp,  or  more  comfortable  to  human 
nature  ? 

In  like  manner,  the  two  Christian  sacraments,  which 
our  Lord  himself  enjoined  on  his  disciples,  are  rites 
very  simple  and  easy,  and  refer,  in  a  beautiful  manner, 
to  the  most  interesting  of  all  events.  The  sacrament  of 
baptism,  by  which  we  are  initiated  into  the  church  of 
Christ,  and  the  privileges  of  the  gospel  covenant,  re- 
quires only  a  small  sprinkling  of  water ;  and,  by  means 
of  that  element,  shadows  out  the  most  excellent  of  all 
the  benefits  which  God  has  conferred  upon  man  ;  no 
other  than  that  purification  of  the  soul  which  is  effected 
by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  is  promised  to  all  those  who 


On  Religions'  Bites.  189 

sincerely  ask  it.  The  sacrament  of  tlie  Lord's  supper, 
for  which  we  are  now  preparing,  is  equally  easy  in  its 
performance ;  and  if  \ve  attend  to  the  several  circum- 
stances of  it,  it  will  appear  to  be  a  very  beautiful  institu- 
tion, and  admirably  adapted  for  affecting  the  mind  with 
those  impressions  which  our  Lord  had  in  view  in  en- 
joining it.  A  few  observations  to  this  purpose  ma}'^  be 
attended  with  use  ;  and  I  shall,  therefore,  beg  leave  to 
draw  your  attention,  first,  to  the  circumstances  in  which 
this  sacrament  was  instituted  ;  secondly,  to  the  mode  in 
which  the  rite  is  performed  ;  and,  lastly,  to  those  im- 
pressions which  it  is  meant  to  convey  to  the  mind. 

First,  The  circumstances  in  which  this  sacrament  was 
instituted,  are  detailed  by  the  evangelists,  and  by  St. 
Paul,  in  that  part  of  his  writings  from  which  my  text  is 
taken  ;  and  never,  surely,  in  any  story,  was  there  a  col- 
lection of  particulars  so  very  interesting.  Our  Saviour 
knew,  that  the  close  of  his  important  life  was  at  hand  ; 
that  the  design  of  his  mission  was  about  to  be  accom- 
plished ;  that  he  was  soon  to  pass  tlirough  his  last  and 
most  difficult  trial ;  that  already  one  of  his  disciples  had 
consented  to  betray  him;  that  the  rest  would  desert  him 
in  his  distress  ;  that  all  would  be  offended  because  of 
him  that  very  night,  for  *'  f/ie  Shepherd  was  to  be  smit- 
ten^ and  the  sheep  of  the  Jlock  to  be  scattered  abroad V 
With  these  thoughts  labouring  on  his  mind,  he  resolved 
yet  to  have  one  meeting  of  love  and  easy  intercourse 
with  those  whom  his  Father  had  given  him,  and  whom 
"  he  loved  unto  the  end ;''"'  and,  making  use  of  the  op- 
portunity presented  by  the  feast  of  the  passover,  '•'' ivhe?: 
the  even  was  come  (say^  the  evangelist),  he  saf  dmvn 
with  the  tivelve.''^ 


190  On  Religious  Rites, 

Such  was  the  interesting  period  at  which  the  sacra- 
ment was  instituted.  "  The  Son  of  Man  ivas  about  to 
he  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  sinners.''''  A!i  his  exer- 
tions for  the  sake  of  the  liuman  race,  were  to  meet  with 
this  unworthy  reiurn  !  His  prophetic  eye  saw  the  scenes 
which  were  preparing  ;  beheld  the  macliinations  of  hell; 
and  he  who  loved  mankind  so  well,  must  have  been  af- 
fected  with  the  deepest  sorrow,  that  they  were  to  become 
the  instruments  of  such  shocking  depravity.  Thus,  like 
a  father  on  his  death-bed,  surrounded  by  his  children,  he 
sate  among  the  disciples,  informing  them,  in  terms  too 
plain  to  be  misunderstood,  that  he  was  not  long  to  be 
with  them.  With  a  view  of  impressing  them  strongly 
with  the  awful  importance  of  the  events  which  were 
about  to  happen,  "  as  they  were  eating  (we  are  told), 
he  took  bread,  and  blessed  it,  and  brake  if,  and  gave  it  to 
his  disciples,  and  said,  Take,  eat,  this  is  my  body.  AjuI 
he  took  the  cup,  and  gave  thanks,  and  gave  it  to  theniy 
say'ing.  Drink  ye  allofit;  for  this  is  my  blood  of  the  new 
testament,  which  is  shed  for  many,  for  the  remission  of 
.si?2S.^^ 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  this  method  of  instituting  a 
memorial  of  his  death,  was  quite  in  the  manner  adopted 
by  our  Lord  in  all  his  instructions,  and  in  his  common 
conduct.  It  seemed  part  of  his  plan,  to  show  that  wis- 
dom might  be  collected  from  every  incident,  the  most 
tiivial,  and  that  the  most  serious  truths  might  be  im- 
]>resstd  upon  the  mind  from  the  occasion  of  very  slight 
events.  Thus  his  instructions  were  constantly  drawn 
from  some  of  the  circumstances  in  his  own  or  his  dis- 
ciples' situation  ;  and  every  common  occurrence  in  their 
lives  he  turned  into  a  source  of  useful  doctrine.     On 


On  Religious  Rites*  191 

this  occasion,  bread  and  wine  were  incidentally  on  the 
table  before  them  ;  and,  by  a  natural  reference  to  his 
body  and  blood,  to  which  these  elements  bore  some  re- 
semblance, he  made  them  symbols  of  the  most  impor- 
tant event  which  was  ever  to  happen  in  the  annals  of 
time. 

The  beauty  and  interesting  nature  of  this  sacrament 
appear,  accordingly,  from  attending  to  the  circumstances 
in  which  it  was  instituted.  Secondly,  let  us  attend  to 
the  manner  of  its  observance.  The  event  to  be  comme- 
morated, is  the  death  of  our  Saviour  for  the  sins  of  the 
world.  The  manner  in  which  this  is  commemorated,  is 
not  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  in  tears  and  lamentations,  and 
stripes  and  penance.  We  are  not  required  "  to  give  our 
Jirst  born  for  our  transgression,  the  fruit  of  our  body  for 
the  sin  of  our  soul.''^  We  are  not  desired  to  go  forth  on 
pilgrimages  to  the  holy  sepulchre ;  to  collect  from  every 
quarter  relics  of  the  cross  ;  and  to  wear  out  the  sacred 
pavements  in  prostration  and  kneeling.  Nothing  harsh, 
nothing  burdensome,  nothing  melancholy  is  required 
from  us.  We  are  only  desired  to  meet  in  fellowshij) 
around  the  table  of  our  Lord  ;  to  personate  the  holy 
apostles ;  and  to  receive  the  sacred  elements  which  he 
formerly  distributed  to  those  well-tried  servants,  when 
he  met  them  for  the  last  time  before  his  death.  We  are 
desired  to  kneel  down  together  with  the  kind  affections 
of  Christian  brethren,  of  men  who  partake  in  the  same 
misfortune,  and  who  look  forward  to  the  same  deliver- 
ance. Perhaps,  it  may  not  be  going  too  far  to  say,  that 
the  very  form  of  this  sacrament  is  a  proof,  that  in  the 
whole  course  of  our  Christian  warfare,  nothing  is  ex- 
pected from  us  \v\\\Q.\\  requires  any  \ery  extraordinary 


192  On  Religious  Mites. 

or  violent  exertion.  Our  Saviour  has  done  so  much, 
that  we  are  desired  to  do  little  more,  than  with  faithful 
and  honest  hearts  to  look  forward  to  the  completion  of 
his  work.  He  asks  nothing  that  is  grievous  and  dis- 
tasteful to  our  feelings ;  he  only  bids  us  remember 
him ;  and  the  manner  in  which  we  are  to  remember 
him,  is  not  with  downcast  and  sorrowful  countenances, 
but  with  glad  hearts,  and  by  a  social  and  friendly  cere- 
mony. "  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me^  What? 
Nothing  more,  than  "  to  eat  this  breads  and  to  drink 
this  cup.'''* 

I  proceed,  in  the  third  place,  to  point  out  those  reli- 
gious impressions  which  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
supper  is  designed  to  fix  upon  the  heart.  These  are 
implied  by  St.  Paul  in  my  text :  ^''  as  oft  as  ye  eat  this 
breads  and  drink  this  cup^  ye  do  show  the  Lord^s  death 
till  he  come.'*^  The  first  thing  remarkable  in  these 
words  is,  "ye  do  show  the  Lord^s  death.'*'*  Let  us 
then,  my  brethren,  contemplate  this  circumstance,  the 
Lord's  death,  and  we  shall  see  what  meditations  ought 
to  employ  us  while  we  celebrate  this  memorial  of  it.  It 
was,  then,  the  death  of  one  who,  through  the  whole 
course  of  his  life,  showed  the  most  ardent  love  to  man- 
kind, and  who  never  seemed  employed  to  his  own 
satisfaction  if  he  was  not  forwarding  the  good  of  man 
and  the  glory  of  God.  The  death  of  the  best  of  men 
would,  in  itself,  be  a  very  affecting  circumstance,  even 
although  it  were  attended  with  no  reference  to  us.  We 
read  with  admiration  and  delight  the  stories  of  illustri- 
ous  heroes,  of  the  wise  and  good  in  all  ages ;  and  when, 
as  has  very  frequently  happened,  these  men  have  fallen 
a  sacrifice  to  the  barbarous  policy  of  their  opponents,  or 


On  Religious  JRites.  193 

to  the  factious  fury  of  the  populace,  we  follow  them 
into  their  last  scenes,  and  look  up  to  their  unbending 
fortitude,  in  their  hours  of  trial,  with  feelings  of  reve- 
rence mixed  with  sorrow.  Suppose,  then,  the  author 
of  the  Christian  faith  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  man  ; 
to  be  a  great  moral  instructor,  "  who  went  about  doing 
good ;''''  yet,  even  in  this  view,  he  bears  the  highest 
character  for  every  virtue  which  has  ever  yet  shone 
forth  in  human  nature,  without  the  smallest  taint  or 
admixture  of  vice  and  pollution.  The  death,  therefore, 
of  this  distinguished  person,  especially  since,  in  the 
circumstances  attending  it,  he  displayed  so  remarkably 
all  his  eminent  qualities,  the  qualities  of  fortitude  and 
patience,  of  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  and  brotherly 
forgiveness  to  man,  is  really  the  most  interesting  object 
which  we  can  contemplate  in  the  whole  history  of  man- 
kind, even  although  it  had  no  consequences,  and  were 
an  event  terminating  in  itself.  It  is,  of  all  others,  the 
best  adapted  to  impress  upon  our  minds  worthy  prin- 
ciples of  conduct,  and  to  make  us  in  love  ^vith  the 
beauty  of  virtue. 

But  when  ^ve  go  on  to  contemplate  the  death  of 
Christ  in  the  religious  view,  as  the  great  sacrifice  m:idc 
for  sin,  without  which  we  could  never  have  had  anv 
certain  assurance  of  forgiveness  ;  when,  enlarging  our 
views,  we  discover  that  this  wonderful  person  was  not 
a  man  merely,  but  was  also  one  "  whoy  being  in  the 
form  of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with 
God,  yet  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon 
him  the  form  of  a  sei-vant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness 
of  men  ;  ajid  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  hum- 
bled himself  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the 

2  B 


194  On  Religious  Rites. 

death  of  the  cross  ;^^  when  we  take  this  view  of  the 
subject,  surely  the  contemplation  of  that  important 
event,  of  which  the  sacrament  of  bread  and  wine  is  the 
symbol,  is  calculated  to  enforce  upon  our  minds  impres- 
sions of  deep  regret  for  our  sins,  and  hearty  resolutions 
of  amendment.  These  sentiments  of  rf-pentance  and 
purposes  of  reformaJ:ionj  flowing  from  the  sacred  source 
of  gratitude,  must  surely  have  the  happiest  effects  upon 
our  lives,  if  we  are  at  all  honest  and  sincere.  When- 
ever we  partake  in  the  holy  communion,  they  will 
naturally  rise  in  our  minds ;  the  occasion  will  suggest 
them  to  us ;  and  it  rests  with  ourselves  to  encourage 
and  strengthen  them,  so  as  tliat  they  may  not  be  formed 
in  vain. 

The  next  thing  which  the  words  of  tlie  text  suggest 
to  us,  is  the  second  coming  of  Christ,  to  which  the 
faithful  look  forward,  when  all  his  promises  will  be 
completed,  and  those  whom  he  approves  will  be  made 
happy  with  him  for  ever.  This  is  likewise  a  natural 
subject  of  meditation  when  we  approach  the  table  of 
our  Lord.  Were  he  still  in  the  dark  repositories  of  the 
departed,  and  had  we  no  hope  that  he  would  ever  be 
restored  to  us,  we  might  remember  him  with  lamenta- 
tion and  weeping,  but  scarcely  with  bread  and  wine. 
The  very  form  of  this  sacrament,  therefore,  justifies  St. 
Paul's  explanation  of  it,  that  in  it  we  show  the  Lord's 
death,  in  the  belief  that  he  will  come  again ;  and,  in 
this  consideration,  many  very  serious  impressions  are 
involved.  For  when  he  comes  again,  he  will  come  in 
the  glory  of  his  Father,  to  judge  the  world.  He  will 
no  longer  wander  over  an  obscure  part  of  the  earth,  a 
poor  and  neglected  man,  scorned  by  the  wicked,  and 


On  Religious  Rites.  195 

^scarcely  acknowledged  by  the  good ;  suffering  all  the 
misfortunes  incident  to  human  life,  and,  finally,  endur- 
ing the  punishment  of  a  criminal ;  but  he  will  appear 
*'  sitting  on  the  right  hand  of  power  ^  and  coming  in  the 
thuds  of  heaven^''''  and  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and 
nation  shall  be  gathered  before  him.  If,  therefore,  we 
determine  to  be  good  and  faithful  servants,  we  are  well 
assured  that  our  Master  has  the  power,  as  well  as  the 
will  to  reward  us  ;  and  we  have  every  reason  to  rejoice 
in  the  hope  that  is  set  before  us.  But  *'  if  -we  he  evil 
servants,  and  say  in  our  hearts,  Our  Lord  delayeth  his 
coming,  and  shall  begin  to  smite  our  felloiv-sei'vants,  arid 
to  eat  and  drink  with  the  drunken,"*^  then  we  know  that 
"  he  will  come  in  a  day  when  we  look  not  for  him,  and 
in  an  hour  that  we  are  not  aware  of,  and  shall  cut  us 
asunder^  and  appoint  us  our  portion  with  the  hypo- 
crites.'*'* 

Such  seem,  my  brethren,  to  be  the  kind  of  reflec- 
tions which  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper  will 
naturally  suggest  to  us  ;  and  surely  they  are  very  salu- 
tary, and  well  deserving  our  frequent  consideration. 
It,  therefore,  greatly  becomes  us  to  take  every  proper 
opportunity  of  "  eating  this  bread  and  drinking  this 
cup,'*''  for  the  sake  of  strengthening  all  our  good  resolu- 
tions, and  of  confirming  our  faith.  "  The  night  (says 
the  apostle)  is  far  spent,  and  the  day  is  at  hand.'''*  Let 
us  steadily  keep  this  principle  in  view,  and  it  will  enable 
us  to  bear  up  under  every  difficulty,  and  to  resist  all 
temptation.  We  ought  to  be  thankful  that,  by  the  in- 
stitution of  this  sacrament,  our  Saviour  has  given  us  a. 
solemn  opportunity  of  frequently  calling  to  mind  the 
great  leading  maxim  of  the  Christian  life,  that  we  are 


196  On  Religious  Rites » 

strangers  in  a  foreign  land  ;  travellers  through  a  scene 
of  dangers  ;  combatants  in  a  serious  warfare  ;  and  that 
we  must  fix  our  eyes  on  our  true  country,  and  bear  up 
through  faith  and  hope.  Let  us  then  be  careful  not  to 
neglect  those  opportunities,  nor  to  avoid  that  gracious 
invitation  which  he  has  given  us.  We  cannot  well 
deserve  the  name  of  Christians,  if  we  will  not  attend  at 
the  table  of  our  Master. 


SERMON  XXIV*. 


ON  RELIGIOUS  RITES. 


ISAIAH,  vi.  7. 


"  And  he  laid  it  upon  my  mouthy  and  said^  Lo^  this  hath 
touched  thy  lips^  and  thine  iniquity  is  taken  away^  and 
thy  sin  purged,'''* 

THESE,  my  brethren,  are  the  concUiding  words 
of  a  very  subUme  passage,  in  which  the  prophet  Isaiah 
describes  a  remarkable  vision  which  had  been  presented 
to  him,  and  the  feehngs  which  it  had  given  rise  to  in  his 
mind.  "  In  the  year  (says  he)  that  king  Uzziah  died^ 
I  saw  also  the  Lord  sitting  upon  a  throne,  high  and 
lifted  up,  and  his  train  jilled  the  temple.  Above  it  stood 
the  seraphims  ;  each  one  had  six  wings  ;  with  txvain  he 
covered  his  face,  and  with  twain  he  covered  his  feet,  and 
with  twain  he  did  fly.  And  one  cried  unto  another,  and 
said.  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord  of  hosts ;  the  whole 
earth  is  full  of  his  glory.  And  the  posts  of  the  door 
moved  at  the  voice  of  him  that  cried,  and  the  house  was 
filed  with  smoke.     Then  said  /,   JFoc  is  me  !  for  1  am 

*  Preached  afier  the  Couimunion, 


198  On  Religions  Rites. 

undojie  ;  because  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips,  and  I  dwell 
in  the  jjiidst  of  a  people  of  unclean  lips  ;  for  ?mne  eyes 
have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  Then  Jieiv  one 
of  the  seraphims  unto  me,  having  a  live  coal  in  his  hand, 
which  he  had  taken  with  the  tongs  from  off  the  altar  ; 
and  he  laid  it  upon  my  mouth,  and  said,  Lo,  this  hath 
touched  thy  lips,  and  thine  iniquity  is  taken  away,  and 
thy  sin  purged.'''* 

I  have  choscQ  the  words,  from  the  natural  reference 
which  they  bear  to  the  late  solemn  occasion  of  our  as- 
sembling iii  this  place.  We,  too,  like  the  prophet,  were 
in  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  and  we  beheld  him  in  spirit 
sitting  upon  his  lofty  throne.  We,  too,  were  admitted 
into  the  presence  of  celestial  beings,  and  we  heard  the 
blessed  in  heaven,  and  the  good  upon  earth,  crying  one 
unto  another,  and  saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord 
of  hosts  ;  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory .'^''  In  that 
hour,  my  brethren,  which  of  us  did  not  feel  the  self- 
abasement  of  the  prophet,  and  say  in  his  heart,  "  Woe 
is  me  !  for  I  am  undone;  because  I  am  a  man  of  unclean 
lips,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  a  people  of  unclean  lips; 
for  mine  eyes  have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of  hosts  .^" 
Yet  the  altar  before  which  we  were  assembled  Avas  the  • 
altar  of  mercy  and  redemption  ;  and  the  bread  of  life 
which  "  touched  our  lips''"'  conveyed  to  our  consciences 
a  stronger  assurance  than  even  the  live  coal,  or  the  voice 
of  the  seraph,  "  that  our  iniquity  is  taken  away,  and  our 
sin  purged.'''' 

The  subject  into  which  I  am  led  by  these  reflections, 
is  the  consideration  of  two  prevailing  sentiments,  which 
the  meditations,  and  the  more  solemn  ceremonies  of  re- 
ligion, naturally  inspire  ;   sentiments  which  are  produc- 


On  Religions  Rites.  199 

tive,  in  particular,  of  the  best  consequences,  when  we 
rise  from  the  altar  of  our  Saviour.  The  first  sentiment 
which  the  contemplation  of  religious  objects  inspires,  is 
a  deep  sense  of  their  dignity,  and  of  our  littleness. 
Whether  we  look  abroad  through  nature,  and  trace  the 
Deity  in  the  magnitude  of  his  works  ;  in  the  sun  which 
flames  above  our  heads  ;  in  the  splendour  of  the  starry 
heavens  ;  or  in  the  rolling  billows  of  the  deep  ;  or,  when 
retiring  from  the  contemplation  of  nature,  we  look  into 
the  depths  of  the  Divine  Providence;  the  laws  by  which 
a  moral  creation  is  upheld;  the  traces  of  the  Divine  hand 
in  the  course  of  human  affairs ;  and  especially  the  stu- 
pendous scheme  of  revelation ;  on  such  occasions,  we 
are  struck  with  an  overpowering  sense  of  the  exceUing 
glory  of  the  Lord,  and  are  lost  in  equal  astonishment  at 
our  own  littleness  and  imperfection.  It  is  then,  that, 
with  the  prophet,  we  behold  the  train  of  the  magnificence 
of  God  filling  the  temple  of  earth  and  of  heaven ;  and 
that,  with  the  psalmist,  we  cry  aloud,  "  JVhat  is  man, 
that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  ;  and  the  son  ofman^  that 
thou  visitest  him  ?"  It  is  then,  too,  that  we  feel  struck 
with  a  sense  of  our  offences,  of  our  imperfect  and  wan- 
dering exertions  in  the  service  of  this  mighty  and  all- 
bounteous  God ;  and  th.at  we  feel  the  full  force  of  the 
sentiment  of  Isaiah,  "  JFoe  is  me  I  for  I  am  undone  ; 
because  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips.'''' 

Amidst  such  humility  and  self-abasement,  the  first 
sentiments  of  religion  rise  in  the  human  heart ;  and  in 
the  heart  of  a  being  like  man,  who  is  ever  prone  to 
weakness  and  to  sin,  such  feelings  must  ever  accompany 
all  his  religious  impressions.  Yet  they  are  not,  as  the 
world  supposes,  sentiments  merely  of  gloom  and  depres- 


200  On  Religious  Rites, 

sion.  They  are  melancholy  and  severe,  but  they  are 
sublime  !  Man  is  weak  and  sinful,  and  he  feels  that  he 
is  so,  and  cries  out,  that  he  is  perishing  in  the  waves, 
and  is  undone  ;  yet  he  fixes  the  eye  of  faith  on  the  gra- 
cious Being  who  conducts  him  through  the  deep ;  and, 
in  the  very  wreck  and  ruin  of  his  hopes,  he  chngs,  with 
eagerness,  to  "  the  Rock  of  his  salvation.''^ 

The  second  sentiment,  therefore,  my  brethren,  which 
rises  in  the  midst  of  our  religious  contemplations,  is  that 
of  trust  in  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God.  This  is 
the  *'  live  coaV''  which  is  carried  by  a  seraph  from  the 
altar,  and  rekindles  our  failing  souls ;  and  this  is  the 
voice  of  peace  which  assures  us  that  our  "  iniquity  is 
taken  aivay^  and  our  sin  purged.'''*  W  herever  we  look 
abroad  through  nature,  we  behold  a  universe  rejoicing 
in  the  bounty  of  the  Creator ;  to  every  thing  its  portion 
of  bliss  allotted  ;  and  the  smallest  insect  that  flutters  in 
tlie  sun-beam  provided  with  the  means  of  happiness,  no 
less  than  the  seraphims  who  sing  the  praises  of  the  Lord 
of  Hosts.  Amidst  this  profusion  of  bounty,  is  man  for- 
gotten? and  is  that  being  who  is  made  but  a  little  lower 
than  the  angels,  left  to  wretchedness  and  despair  ?  If 
he  has  sinned,  is  there  not  mercy  with  the  Most  High  ? 
v<;ill  God  be  angry  for  ever,  and  cast  off,  without  hope 
of  pardon,  his  wandering  and  prodigal  son?  Nature 
herself,  my  brethren,  speaks  to  us  of  mercy  with  the 
Most  High  ;  and  her  gentle  voice  sometimes  whispers 
to  us,  with  the  seraph  of  the  prophet,  that  our  "  iniquity 
is  taken  away  ^  and  our  sin  purged^^'*  Revelation  speaks 
to  us  in  still  more  commanding  words;  and  at  that  altar 
from  which  we  have  now  risen,  I  trust  we  have  heard  a 
voice  which  will  bring  us  peace  and  assurance  for  ever. 


On  Rellgioits  Rites.  201 

We  have  there  adored  in  gratitude  and  humility  the 
mighty  sacrifice  of  our  redemption ;  and  we  have  heard 
the  words  which  say,  "  If  God  gave  us  his  only  Softy 
will  he  ?iof,  xvith  him^  also  give  us  all  things?'''* 

Such,  my  brethren,  are  the  contemplations  into  which 
our  religion  has  lately  introduced  us,  and  such  are  the 
sentiments  which  must  in  some  measure  have  arisen  in 
all  our  hearts.  From  that  altar  we  are  now  returning 
into  the  world ;  and  having  felt  our  weakness  and  infir- 
mity, and  having  had  our  hearts  re-assured  by  the  pro- 
mises of  the  spirit  of  God,  what  remains  for  us  to  do  ? 
The  prophet  will  tell  us  in  the  words  which  follow  the 
text.  "  Also  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  saying, 
Whom  shall  I  sendy  and  who  will  go  for  us  ?  Then  said 
/,  Here  am  I :  send  me.''''  We  have  knelt  down  before 
the  cross  of  Christ ;  we  have  felt  the  wounds  of  our  con- 
sciences healed  by  the  drops  of  his  blood ;  and  we  are 
advancing,  I  trust,  with  renewed  spirits  into  the  dangers 
and  the  trials  of  the  world.  What,  then,  ought  to  be 
our  principle  of  action  ?  "  Here  am  I  (says  the  prophet), 
send  me  ;"  or,  in  the  language  of  a  greater  than  the  pro- 
phet, "  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  0  God!''''  At  the  altar 
of  Christ,  the  glory  of  the  Lord  has  been  unveiled  to 
us  ;  and,  raising  our  eyes  above  the  things  of  time,  we 
have  beheld  his  train  filling  the  temple  of  eternity.  We 
have  seen  all  things  in  heaven  and  in  earth  obeying  his 
will ;  from  the  sparrow,  which  falleth  to  the  ground  at 
his  command,  to  the  seraphim,  who  sing  their  eternal 
hymn,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts, 
heaven  and  earth  are  fidl  of  his  glory.'''*  We  have  seen 
the  First-born  himself  bowing  his  head  in  death,  to  ac- 
complish the  will  of  the  Father :   yet,  amidst  nil  this 

2  c 


202  On  Religious  Rites. 

grand  display  of  the  sovereignty  of  God,  we  have  found, 
alas !  our  own  hearts  but  too  often  rebels  to  his  will. 
Abashed  at  his  presence,  and  self- condemned,  we  have 
cried  out,  *'  JFoe  is  me^  for  lam  undone ;'*''  but  in  the 
midst  of  our  humiliation  and  tears,  the  living  flame  of 
his  love  has  touched  our  hearts,  and  the  seraph  of  peace 
that  hovers  round  the  altar,  has  assured  us  that  "  our 
iniquity  is  taken  axvay^^"*  and  now  sends  us  back  into 
the  world,  willing  instruments  in  his  hands. 

In  the  world  into  which  we  are  returning,  tempta- 
tions of  different  kinds  will  again  recur  to  mislead  us. 
Some  of  us,  probably,  are  returning  into  scenes  of 
affliction,  and  may  be  tempted  to  murmur  against  the 
dispensations  of  Heaven.  Yet,  my  brethren,  if  such  is 
the  call  of  your  Father ;  if  it  is  into  the  scenes  of  sor- 
row that  he  sends  you  ;  still  say  with  the  prophet, 
**  Here  am  /."  Forget  not  so  soon  the  contemplations 
in  which  you  have  been  engaged.  Remember  that  the 
Master  before  whom  you  have  now  bowed,  was  a  man 
of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief.  You  have  lately 
risen  from  the  vicAv  of  his  sufferings*,  and  have  seen 
that  he  refused  not  the  cup  which  his  Father  gave  him 
to  drink.  Still  more,  you  have  seen  the  reward  of  his 
filial  obedience.  When  the  bitterness  of  death  was 
past,  you  saw  him  restored  to  life  and  immortality ; 
and  you  now  are  assured  that,  "  at  the  name  ofJesuSy 
every  knee  shall  bow.'''*  Learn  from  him  to  suffer;  and 
the  meekness  of  your  patience  will  like  his  be  rewarded, 
when  sorrow  shall  be  no  more  ! 

Many  of  us  are  returning  into  scenes  of  ease  and 
prosperity.     It  is  in  these  chiefly  that  we  are  likely  to 

*  On  Good  Friday. 


Ofi  Religious  Rites.  203 

be  misled.  When  the  world  smiles  upon  us,  we  are 
too  ready  to  regard  it  as  our  "  ahiding  city^'*''  and  to 
conceive  that  we  are  left  to  our  own  disposal.  We  are 
then  too  apt  to  forget  our  duty  to  man,  and  our  respon- 
sibility to  God.  Yet,  my  brethren,  let  not  the  truths, 
which  this  day*  has  recalled  to  your  thoughts,  be 
speedily  dissipated.  At  the  altar  you  have  been  told  of 
better  worlds.  You  have  seen  the  Son  of  God  rise 
from  the  grave  in  the  form  of  a  man ;  and  you  have 
heard  him  call  you,  to  raise  your  ambition  above  the 
enjoyments  of  a  temporary  being.  '*  If  ye  then  be  risen 
with  Christy  seek  those  things  which  are  above,  where 
Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  God.^^  "  Set  your 
affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  ofi  the  earth.''"' 
Follow  your  Master  in  all  the  paths  of  social  duty  ; 
be  willing  ministers  of  good  in  the  hands  of  your  hea- 
venly Father;  ever  say  with  the  prophet,  "  Here  am  /," 
wheresoever  thou  wilt,  O  God,  "  send  7?ie.^^  Thine  I 
am,  from  the  first  moment  in  which  my  eyes  were 
opened  to  the  light,  to  that  hour  when  they  shall  again 
be  closed  in  death ;  and,  through  this  fleeting  circle  of 
time,  so  enable  me  to  do  thy  will  in  all  the  labours  of 
love,  that  I  may  still  be  thine,  when  time  shall  be  no 
more ! 

*  Easter  Sunday. 


SERMON  XXV. 


ON  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 


PSALM  c.  3. 


Enter  into  his  gates  with  thanksgiving,  and  into  his 
courts  with  praise:  be  thankful  unto  him,  and  bless  his 


name.- 


IT  is  a  melancholy  truth,  that  the  occupations 
of  life  should  possess  the  minds  of  men  so  entirely,  as 
to  leave  them  but  little  leisure  for  religious  reflection. 
Although  nothing  can  be  a  more  certain  truth,  than  that 
all  the  good  which  we  either  enjoy  or  hope  for,  is  from 
God ;  yet  it  is  one  which  we  are  not  apt  to  consider 
with  attention,  so  as  to  awaken  in  our  souls  emotions  of 
gratitude  and  piety.  The  institution  of  set  times  and 
places  for  worship,  must,  accordingly,  be  acknowledged 
to  be  highly  beneficial,  since  it  affords  an  admirable  op- 
portunity for  making  a  retreat  from  our  common  world- 
ly business,  and  of  fixing  our  thoughts  on  that  unseen 
Benefactor,  from  whose  hand  are  derived  all  the  bless- 
ings of  our  lives.  Yet  the  spirit  of  irreligion  prevails 
so  far,  that  men  rather  avoid  these  opportunities,  than 
avail  themselves  of  them  ;   or  even  if  thev  seem  to  lav 


On  Public  rVorship.  205 

hold  of  them,  it  is  often  with  such  a  temper  of  mind  as 
to  derive  no  benefit  from  their  recurrence. 

There  are  two  leading  views  from  which  a  regular 
attention  to  public  worship  may  be  recommended :   the 
spiritual  improvement  of  the  individual,  and  the  good 
example  which  is  thereby  set  to  others.     In   the  first 
place,  a  proper  attention  to  public  worship  contributes 
much  to  the  spiritual  improvement  of  the  individual. 
The  fact  which  I  set  out  with  stating  is  undeniable; 
that  in  the  present  life  we  are  necessarily  so    much 
occupied  with  worldly  concerns,  as  to  render  us  on  the 
whole  inattentive  to  religious  truth,  and  the  concerns  of 
futurity.    This  fleeting  scene  occupies  all  our  thoughts; 
and  our  heads  are  too  often  laid  in  the  grave,  before  we 
have  seriously  reflected,  that  the  grave  is  the  gate  which 
opens  on  an  eternal  world.     Of  this,  and  all  other  reli- 
gious truths,  we  frequently  require  to  be  reminded, 
and  to  have  them  impressed  upon   our  reflections   in 
such  a  form,  that  they  may  keep  their  hold  amidst  all 
the  seductions  of  present  things,  and  establish  some- 
what of  a  celestial  temper  within  us,   even  while  our 
souls  are  borne  down  and  fettered,  by  the  ^incumbrance 
of  our  material  frame. 

The  stated  and  regular  worship  of  God  is  an  admira- 
ble expedient  for  this  purpose.  Wiicn  we  "  enter  into 
his  gates  xvith  thanksgiving,  and  into  his  courts  with 
praise ;''^  when  our  souls  are  elevated  with  the  contem- 
plation of  his  invisible  glory  ;  when  we  awaken  in  our 
hearts  sentiments  of  gratitude,  and  entreat  with  humility 
the  continuance  of  his  favour ;  when  we  are  instructed 
from  his  holy  word,  and  listen  to  those  heavenly  pre- 
cepts which  the  divine  teacher  gave  to  the  children  of 


206  On  Public  JVorship. 

men ;  when  we  are  so  employed,  the  world  will  surely 
for  a  time  retreat  from  our  thoughts ;  and,  feeling  the 
full  force  of  religious  impressions,  we  shall  be  ready  to 
exclaim,  with  the  patriarch  of  old,  "  Horv  dreadful  is 
this  place  !  this  is  no?te  other  than  the  house  of  God,  and 
this  is  the  gate  of  heaven  /" 

I  am  aware,  my  brethren,  that  such  sentiments  may 
be  only  momentary,  and  that,  when  we  return  into  the 
world,  the  tide  of  human  occupations  and  passions  may 
carry  us  along  with  renewed  force  ;  yet  something  will 
always  be  apt  to  remain,  some  holy  emotion,  which 
may  check  the  turbulence  of  unhallowed  desire,  or 
which  may  elevate  the  mind  above  the  mean  pursuits  of 
avarice,  or  vulgar  ambition.  And,  by  frequently  per- 
mitting such  impressions  to  be  repeated,  a  habit  of 
piety,  and  of  serious  reflection,  will  be  wrought  into 
the  soul,  sufficient  to  bear  it  in  triumph  through  the 
delusions  of  the  world,  and  finally  to  convey  it  into  that 
uninterrupted  bliss,  which  awaits  the  good  in  the  pre- 
sence of  their  heavenly  Father. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  careless  and  inattentive  manner 
of  being  present  in  form  only,  while  the  offices  of  reli- 
gion are  performed,  which,  so  far  from  producing  any 
improvement  to  the  soul,  rather  tends  to  render  it  callous 
to  all  religious  impressions.  It  is  not  uncommon  for 
men  to  imagine,  that  their  duty  to  God  is  sufficiently  ful- 
filled, if  they  merely  attend  in  person  the  places  appoint- 
ed for  his  worship,  without  really  applying  their  minds 
to  prayer,  or  endeavouring  to  derive  any  instruction 
from  the  truths  which  they  may  hear  delivered.  These 
men,  indeed,  ^''  enter  into  the  gates  of  God'' s  home, ^^  but 
it  is  without  "  thanksgiving  and  praise  ;^^  without  any 


On  Public  fVorship.  207 

disposition  to  honour  their  Maker,  or  to  be  rendered  ca- 
pable of  honouring  him.  It  is  unfair,  however,  to  argue 
against  the  utility  of  religious  institutions,  from  the 
small  influence  which  they  seem  to  possess  over  many 
of  those  who  appear  to  treat  them  with  due  regard ;  be- 
cause it  often  happens,  that  those  men  who  seem  the 
most  zealous  for  religion,  have  yet  never  permitted  their 
hearts  to  be  affected  with  any  genuine  sentiments  of 
piety,  and,  '•  having  a  form  of  godliness,  they  yet  deny 
the  pouter  thereof  ^"^ 

That  we  may  receive  improvement  in  the  courts  of 
the  Lord,  it  is,  indeed,  necessary  that  we  should  call  to 
mind  whose  service  it  is  in  which  we  are  employ- 
cd  ;  to  remember  that  we  are  addressing  him  who  is 
praised  by  the  voices  of  angels  and  archangels ;  and 
that  it  is  from  the  sincerity  of  our  worship  alone  that 
our  feeble  voice  can  be  thought  worthy  of  joining  in 
unison  with  theirs.  When  such  are  our  impressions, 
and  when  we  feel  our  devotion  inflamed  by  synapathy 
with  our  surrounding  brethren,  the  most  thoughdess 
among  us  will,  for  a  time  at  least,  think  soberly  ;  and 
the  wisest  and  best  of  us  will  return  from  the  gates  of 
the  house  of  God,  wiser  and  better  than  when  he  enter- 
ed in. 

The  second  view,  from  which  this  practice  may  be 
recommended,  is  under  the  head  of  example,  which  ap- 
plies chiefly  to  men  of  character  and  influence,  whose 
conduct  is  remarked,  and  who  are  as  "  cities  set  on  a  hill^ 
that  cannot  be  hid.''"'  There  is  no  man,  indeed,  who  ma}- 
not  iiave  some  influence,  whose  example  will  not  proba- 
bly be  copied  by  some  one  or  other.  All  parents  arc 
under  strong  obligations  to  set  a  gf)od  example  to  their 


208  On  Public  Worship, 

children ;  all  masters  to  their  servants  ;  but  particularly 
men  of  station  and  rank  to  their  inferiors  everywhere 
around  them.  Now,  a  regular  habit  of  attending  public 
worship  is  a  feature  in  the  example  of  a  good  man,  which 
has  a  wider  and  more  beneficial  influence  than  is  com- 
monly imagined  ;  gives  an  impression  of  weight  and 
diffnitv  to  his  character,  which  it  would  otherwise  want; 
and  establishes  the  opinion,  that  he  is  actuated  by  nobler 
motives  than  the  desire  of  popular  favour,  or  any  mere 
worldly  consideration. 

The  lower  orders  of  men,  who  at  one  time  declaim 
against  the  profligacy  of  their  superiors,  and,  at  another, 
take  comfort  to  themselves,  in  the  midst  of  their  own 
corruptions,  when  they  see  that  they  are  only  copying 
after  their  betters ;  these  men  look  up  with  emotions  of 
awe  and  reverence  to  the  rich  and  powerful  man  who 
seems  to  carry  the  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes ;  and, 
while  he  walks  among  them,  they  almost  consider  him 
as  a  superior  being,  commissioned  by  the  Most  High 
to  regulate  their  conduct,  to  curb  and  restrain  their 
vices,  and  to  encourage  their  humble  virtues.  Impres- 
sions of  this  kind  seize  upon  the  imaginations  of  the  po- 
pulace, and  have  probably  no  slight  influence  in  forming 
their  manners.  If,  then,  by  the  plain  and  easy  practice 
of  resorting  to  the  house  of  God  at  the  times  appointed 
for  his  worship,  a  man  of  rank  or  fortune  may  do  more 
good  among  his  dependants,  or  those  inferiors  who 
watch  his  conduct,  than  by  the  profuse  distribution  of 
wealth,  or  even  by  well-formed  schemes  for  the  good 
and  advancement  of  society,  the  observance  of  this  prac- 
tice becomes  a  most  important  branch,  not  only  of  his 


On  Public  Worship,  209 

duty  to  God,  but  likewise  of  that  which  he  owes  to 
man. 

These  remarks,  my  brethren,  are  applicable  to  all 
times,  but  they  are,  perhaps,  peculiarly  so  to  the  present 
age,  which,  whatever  may  be  its  advantages  in  point  of 
knowledge,  of  refinement,  and  of  humanity,  is  certainly 
far  from  being  eminent  for  zeal  in  religion.  Many 
opinions  and  sentiments  which  our  fathers  regarded  with 
reverence,  are  now  too  often  despised,  and  many  prac- 
tices which,  in  their  apprehension,  were  characteristic 
of  virtue  and  goodness,  are  now  too  frequendy  looked 
upon  as  the  indications  of  a  weak  and  superstitious 
mind.  Whatever  advances  our  age  has  really  made, 
whatever  improvements  in  practice  or  opinion,  no  wise 
man  assuredly  will  undervalue.  Our  sentiments  have, 
in  some  respects,  become  more  liberal,  our  views  more 
enlarged,  and  our  minds  have  been  freed  from  some  un- 
worthy fetters,  by  which  those  of  our  fathers  were  tied 
down  and  enslaved.  All  this  is  right:  these  advantages 
it  is  our  duty  to  preserve,  and  in  all  respects  '■'■  so  to  speak 
and  so  to  do,  as  they  that  shall  be  Judged  by  the  law  of 
liberty.'^'* 

But  let  us  be  very  careful  lest  we  ever  mistake  the 
spurious  offspring  of  our  vanity  and  self-conceit  for  the 
genuine  fruits  of  an  improving  age ;  and  whilst  ue  con- 
demn the  frivolous  observances  frequent  among  "  those 
of  old  timcy'^  let  us  be  cautious  lest  w^e  shut  our  eyes 
to  that  lustre  of  true  religion  and  piety  that  so  often  shed 
a  glory  around  their  steps,  which  all  our  boasted  know- 
ledge and  improvements  seek  to  confer  upon  us  in  vain. 
Let  us  be  cautious  lest  we  ever  despise  that  simple  and 

2  D 


210  On  Public  Worship. 

unassuming  wisdom  which  led  them  to  yield  a  ready 
and  unforced  obedience  to  every  sacred  institution,  both 
as  the  mean  of  nurturing  in  their  own  bosoms  the  secret 
seeds  of  faith  and  virtue,  and  for  the  purpose  of  draw- 
ing more  closely  those  unseen  cords,  which  bind  to- 
gether in  beautiful  order  the  jarring  elements  of  human 
society. 


SERMON  XXVL 


ON  YOUTHFUL  PIETY. 


ECCLESIASTES,  xii.  1. 

*'  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth; 
■while  tlie  evil  days  come  not^  nor  the  years  draw  nigh^ 
when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them^ 

THE  young,  my  brethren,  are  too  apt  to  con- 
sider religion  as  a  dark  and  gloomy  object.  It  seems  to 
them  calculated  to  check  the  sprightliness  of  their  spirits, 
and  to  thwart  the  pursuit  of  their  pleasures.  If  they 
have  been  educated  by  pious  parents,  they  will,  indeed, 
regard  it  with  reverence  and  awe  ;  but  still  it  may  seem 
to  them  a  bondage  from  which  they  will  sometimes 
long  to  become  free.  The  house  of  God  is  apt  to 
appear  to  them  cheerless  and  melancholy,  and  their 
thoughts  will  often  wander  from  prayers  and  thanks- 
givings to  the  enticing  scenes  of  gaiety  and  joy.  This 
is  a  disposition  inherent  probably  in  most  young  minds, 
and  which,  therefore,  is  to  be  treated  with  some  indulg- 
ence. Yet,  in  this  disposition,  we  may  trace  the  first 
rise  of  irreligion  in  the  heart ;  we  may  see  those  cor- 
rupted springs  from  which  the  waters  of  bitterness 
afterwards  flow  ;  and  in  that  distaste  to  the  thoughts  of 


212  On  Youthful  Piety. 

religion  as  inconsistent  with  the  pleasures  of  youth,  we 
shall  discover  the  root  of  infidelity  in  some  minds,  and, 
in  others,  of  that  eager  following  after  vain  enjoyments, 
which  finally  blot?  out  every  serious  thought. 

In  order,  therefore,  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  the 
young  the  belief  that  there  is  nothing  severe  in  the 
advice  of  the  wise  man  which  I  have  chosen  for  my 
text,  I  shall  endeavour  to  prove,  first,  that  religion  is  so 
far  from  checking,  that  it  will  add  a  relish  to  every 
innocent  pleasure  which  is  natural  to  the  season  of 
youth;  and,  in  the  next  place,  to  show  that  youth  is 
the  season  in  which  religion  and  pleasure  may  be  most 
easily  made  to  unite,  "  while  the  evil  days  come  noty 
nor  the  years  draw  nighy  when  thou  shalt  say^  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  them.''^ 

Let  us  then  consider  the  season  of  youth,  and  the 
innocent  pleasures  which  it  admits ;  that  season  when 
our  limbs  are  strong  ;  when  our  hearts  are  light;  when 
our  hopes  are  warm ;  and  when  we  begin  to  run  the 
race  of  life  with  alacrity  and  joy.  Care  has  not  3'et  sate 
down  upon  our  minds ;  we  have  not  yet  experienced 
the  vanity  of  the  world,  nor  fallen  a  prey  to  discontent 
and  repining.  Every  hour  seems  to  start  some  new 
enjoyment,  something  that  we  have  not  yet  known, 
which  may  add  new  vigour  to  our  spirits,  and  refresh 
our  hopes.  Life  does  not  yet  appear  the  same  unvaried 
circle  of  dull  employment,  or  of  insipid  amusement. 
All  is  smiling  and  delightful;  for  the  evil  days  have  not 
yet  come,  nor  the  years  drawn  nigh,  in  which  we  shall 
say  we  have  no  pleasure  in  them.  Now,  my  brethren, 
it  would  indeed  be  a  harsh  design,  if  religion  advanced 
to  throw  a  cloud  over  this  pleasing  period ;  if  it  hastened 


On  Youthful  Piety.  213 

the  arrival  of  the  evil  days,  instead  of  retarding  them, 
or  of  breaking  their  force.  If  we  were  forbid  to  use  the 
vigour  of  our  limbs,  if  we  were  required  to  break  down 
the  cheerfulness  of  our  spirits,  and  to  tear  from  our 
hearts  all  love  for  those  delights  which  are  ever  opening 
upon  us,  we  might,  indeed,  have  some  reason  to  com- 
plain that  we  served  a  severe  master. 

But  religion  never  forbids  the  use  of  any  thing  which 
nature  throws  in  our  way.  It  only  aims  at  checking  the 
abuse.  Our  heavenly  Father  deals  with  us  in  no  other 
way  than  every  wise  parent  acts  by  his  child.  Every 
kind  father  is  pleased  to  see  his  child  sprightly  and  gay, 
enjoying  the  amusements  and  games  of  his  childhood. 
Every  wise  father,  however,  checks  his  child  in  those 
amusements  which  he  sees  are  hurtful ;  and  although  it 
may  cost  a  few  tears,  yet  is  steady  in  enforcing  obedience. 
Can  we  think  it  hard  to  be  treated  by  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther in  the  manner  in  which  the  wisest  and  best  parents 
treat  their  children  ?  and  do  we  see  those  children  which 
are  wisely  educated  less  lively  and  cheerful  than  those 
which  are  idly  indulged  ?  Where,  then,  is  the  severity 
of  the  precept,  "  remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days 
of  thy  youth  ?"  what  pleasures  will  it  prevent ;  what 
delights  will  it  destroy  ?  Will  it  make  the  face  of  na- 
ture appear  less  beautiful  in  our  eyes  ?  will  it  make  us 
have  less  delight  in  the  society  of  our  friends,  or  of  those 
who  possess  our  hearts  ?  Does  the  child  appear  less 
sprightly  in  his  play,  who  recollects  that  his  father  per- 
mits certain  amusements  and  forbids  others,  than  one 
who  runs  thoughtless  into  all  kinds  of  mischief  when- 
ever he  is  beyond  the  paternal  eye?  "  Remember  now 
thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  ijouth^^^  and  tliou  wilt, 


214  On  Youthful  Piety, 

indeed,  avoid  the  intemperate  rioting  of  drunkenness, 
the  insidious  poison  of  loose  debauchery,  and  all  the 
other  snares  which  lie  in  the  path  of  youth  ;  but  wilt 
thou  enjoy  with  less  satisfaction  the  company  of  thy 
friend,  or  think  with  less  delight  on  the  mistress  of  thy 
chaste  affections,  or  engage  with  less  animation  in  the  dif- 
ferent occupations  which  suit  thy  years?  Every  period  of 
life  has  its  peculiar  duties  and  enjoyments;  and  religion 
does  not  expect  in  a  young  man  all  the  composure  and 
gravity  of  age  :  it,  however,  requires  the  young  to  be 
sober-minded,  and  not  intemperately  to  give  the  reins  to 
every  eager  desire.  It  requires  the  young  as  well  as  the 
old  to  remember  that  they  are  immortal  beings,  and  that 
tjiey  will  one  day  give  an  account  of  their  works  ;  but, 
under  this  caution,  it  permits  them  to  rejoice  in  tlieir 
youth.  *■'■  Rejoice^  0  young  man,  in  thy  youth,  and  let 
thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  ways  of  thy  youth,  and  walk 
in  the  ways  of  thine  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes; 
but  know  thou,  that  for  all  these  things  God  will  bring 
thee  into  judgment,''^ 

So  far  is  the  remembrance  of  our  Creator  from  being 
a  hindrance  to  youthful  pleasures,  that  it  must  clearly 
add  to  them,  and  give  them  a  higher  relish.  The  child 
that  amuses  himself  under  his  father's  smiles  surely  en- 
joys a  greater  happiness  than  when  he  fears  to  be  inter- 
rupted in  forbidden  delights,  and  to  be  subject  to  his 
frowns  and  displeasure.  Must  it  not  add  to  the  lawful 
pleasures  of  youth,  when  we  believe  that  the  great  Fa- 
ther of  our  spirits  permits  them  a  free  scope,  and  de- 
lights to  see  the  happiness  of  his  children  while  they  con- 
fine themselves  within  the  gracious  rules  of  his  admi- 
nistration ?     Will  not  the  belief  that  we  enjoy  his  appro- 


On  Youthful  PietJj.  215 

bation  cheer  us  under  every  restraint?  and,  if  we  must 
at  times  submit  to  his  chastisement,  shall  we  not  kiss  the 
rod,  and  still  acknowledge  his  paternal  love  ?  Let  us 
not,  .my  brethren,  form  to  ourselves  a  dark  and  gloomy 
notion  of  the  God  who  made  us,  but  let  us  regard  him 
as  the  Father  of  mercies,  as  the  most  mild  and  gracious 
of  all  beings.  "  Like  as  ^father  pitieth  his  children^  so 
the  Lord pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  For  he  lamxveth 
our  frame :  he  r  e  member  eth  that  we  are  dust.  As  for 
maUy  his  days  are  as  grass,  as  a  fower  of  the  field  so  he 
jlourisheth.  For  the  wind p asset h  over  it,  anditis  gone^ 
and  the  place  thereof  shall  know  it  no  more.  But  the 
mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting 
upon  them  that  fear  him,  and  his  righteousness  unto  chil- 
dren''s  children,  to  such  as  keep  his  covenant,  and  to  those 
that  remember  his  commandments  to  do  them.'''* 

Let  us,  in  the  second  place,  proceed  to  enforce  the 
argument  of  the  wise  man,  by  which  he  recommends 
early  piety  :  it  is  drawn  from  the  consideration  of  the 
difficulty  of  becoming  pious  at  any  after  period  of  life, 
if  we  have  neglected  the  remembrance  of  our  Creator 
in  the  days  of  our  youth.  While  we  are  young,  and 
enjoy  life,  we  feel  that  it  is  a  good,  and  we  can  be 
thankful  for  it ;  and  if  vv§  have  attained  the  disposition 
of  thankfulness  in  our  youth,  we  can  retain  it  when  the 
evil  days  come,  knowing,  that  although  there  is  little 
pleasure  in  them,  yet  they  are  the  lot  of  humanity;  and 
diat,  if  we  bear  up  under  their  inconveniences  with 
patience  and  resignation,  we  shall  in  no  case  lose  our 
reward.  But  if  our  religious  sentiments  are  to  be  first 
formed  in  the  decay  of  our  years,  when  the  tinK-  of 
pleasure  is  over,  and  life  wears  a  dismal  and  fading 


216  On  Youthful  Piety, 

aspect,  the  task  must  evidently  be  hard,  and  contrary 
to  the  bent  of  our  nature.  When  we  have  wasted  our 
youth  in  intemperance,  and  have  lost  the  cheerful  flow 
of  our  spirits,  and  carry  about  with  us  a  weary  and 
worn-out  mind,  where  is  there  room  for  those  warm 
affections  of  the  heart,  without  which  our  religion  must 
be  lame  and  imperfect  ?  How  can  we,  when  our  decay- 
ing frames,  the  wrecks,  perhaps,  of  our  intemperance 
and  folly,  seem  rather  to  be  monuments  of  God's  in- 
dignation, than  examples  of  his  love  ;  how  can  we  then 
begin,  for  the  first  time,  to  lift  our  souls  in  gratitude  to 
him,  and  to  thank  him  for  that  goodness  which  we  can 
with  difficulty  persuade  ourselves  that  we  have  ever 
experienced  ? 

If  we  do  become  religious  in  our  old  age,  while  we 
have  neglected  our  Creator  in  our  youth,  our  religion 
will  be  founded  rather  on  fear  than  on  love,  and  we 
shall  look  up  to  the  Author  of  our  being  rather  as  a 
severe  master,  whom  we  must  serve,  than  as  a  kind 
father,  whose  commandments  are  given  for  his  chil- 
dren's good.  The  religion  which  first  begins  in  the 
midst  of  the  evil  days,  will  partake  of  all  the  gloom  and 
melancholy  of  the  season  which  gives  it  birth  ;  and, 
instead  of  being  the  solace  and  comfort  of  that  declining 
period,  will,  perhaps,  but  cover  it  over  with  darker 
clouds.  And  yet  it  is  evident,  that  old  age  can  only  be 
truly  cheerful  if  it  is  religious.  Confidence  in  God. 
alone  can  break  the  force  of  those  storms  which  will 
then  probably  assail  us.  The  young  may  enjoy,  for  a 
time,  a  life  of  pleasure,  without  the  thought  of  virtue 
and  holiness.  The  warmth,  the  flow,  the  alacrity  of 
their  spirits,  may  carry  them  through  much  dissipation, 


071  Youthful  Piety.  217 

without  great  weariness,  or  much  perception  that  "  all 
is  vanity.''^  But  the  old,  totterinj^  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  with  weakened  bodies  and  weary  minds,  what, 
O  God,  can  give  peace  and  comfort  to  them,  but  the  be- 
lief that  thou  art  with  them,  and  that  thou  wilt  never  for- 
sake them  ?  And  how  can  they  have  this  happy  con- 
fidence, if,  instead  of  looking  back  on  a  well- spent  life, 
past  in  thy  service,  and  directed  by  thee,  tiicy  behold  all 
tiicir  early  years  a  vain  scene  of  vice  and  disorder,  and 
that  they  have  only  had  recourse  to  thy  protection,  when 
all  besides  had  failed  them  ? 

If,  then,  my  brethren,  we  are  desirous,  at  any  time  of 
our  lives,  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  religion  ;  if,  when 
the  pleasures  of  the  world  have  failed  us,  when  our  eyes 
are  dim,  and  our  strength  decayed,  and  we  have  outlived 
the  companions  of  our  youth,  and  are  travelling  on  to 
the  grave  in  solitude  and  silence  ;  if,  at  this  dreary  pe- 
riod, when  we  are  in  the  midst  of  the  evil  days,  we 
would  still  possess  a  friend  "  who  stlcketh  closer  than  a 
brother;''''  who  can  infuse  into  our  hearts  the  truest  com- 
fort, and  be  a  staff  to  our  feet,  and  light  to  our  eyes,  let 
us  "  remember  our  Creator  in  the  days  of  our  youth.'''' 
God  forbid  that  1  should  suppose  he  may  not  be  found 
at  any  time  by  those  who  sincerely  seek  him;  and,  even 
although  ^ve  have  been  misled  by  youlliful  passions,  and 
have  neglected  his  service  in  our  best  days,  that  yet  he 
will  not  accept  of  our  sincere  repentance,  when  the  evil 
days  have  come.  But,  surely,  repentance  is  m.uch  easier 
while  our  transgressions  are  few,  than  when  they  are 
multiplied  ;  the  wound  can  surely  be  more  easily  heal- 
ed when  it  is  fresh,  than  when  it  has  rankled  and  be- 
come a  sore. 

2e 


218  On  Youthful  Piety. 

It  is  impossible,  too,  not  to  perceive  the  gross  impro- 
priety  of  devoting  that  time  only  to  the  service  of  our 
Maker,  which  is  the  most  inefficient,  and  of  the  least 
value  in  our  existence.  In  pouring  out  the  cup  of  life, 
shall  we  set  apart  the  dregs  only  for  the  great  Master  of 
the  feast  ?  Shall  our  evil  days  alone  be  dedicated  to  that 
bounty  from  which  all  the  days  of  our  years  are  derived, 
and  no  part  of  our  pleasant  days  also  ?  Is  it  thus  that 
our  Creator  ought  to  be  remembered  ?  and  can  so  pre- 
posterous a  scheme  of  religion  lead  to  any  thing  like  con- 
sistent happiness?  In  vain,  then,  my  brethren,  will  you 
attempt  to  postpone  those  duties  which  are  ever  solicit- 
ing your  attention,  or  to  defer,  till  "  a  more  convenient 
season^'*'*  that  service  in  which  you  can  never  be  too 
early  engaged,  and  which,  when  you  are  heartily  en- 
gaged in  it,  you  will  indeed  feel  to  be  ''  perfect  free- 
dom," 


SERMON  XXVII. 


ON  REDEEMING  TIME*. 


EPHESIANS,  V.  16. 

"  Redeeming  the  ti??2e,  because  the  days  are  eviU'' 

THERE  are  times,  my  brethren,  when  the 
solemn  admonitions  of  religion  fall  upon  our  minds  with 
a  peculiar  force.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the  season  of 
affliction,  when  we  are  made  feelingly  to  apprehend  the 
instability  of  all  human  enjoyments.  When  the  days  of 
our  lives  are  evil,  we  become  detached  from  the  com- 
mon delusions  which  betray  us,  and  are  disposed  to 
listen  to  the  voice  from  heaven,  which  calls  upon  us  to 
*'  redeem  the  tiine^^^  and  to  regulate  the  remainder  of 
our  days  on  the  principles  of  virtue  and  of  wisdom. 

It  is  not,  however,  in  the  hour  of  affliction  alone,  that 
our  minds  are  awakened  to  sober  and  serious  thought. 
There  are  times  interposed  by  the  bounty  of  Providence, 
when,  without  the  severe  discipline  of  suffering,  the 
most  thoughtless  are  naturally  called  to  reflection;  when 
the  young  check,  for  a  moment,  the  boundless  career 
of  hope,  and  when  the  old  rouse  themselves  from  the 

*  Preached  January  1st,  1808. 


220  On  Redeeming  Time. 

slumber  of  forgetfalness,  in  which  the  long  habit  of 
existence  has  involved  them.  Such  is  the  season  of 
the  departing  year,  when  an  unbroken  portion  of  time, 
through  which  we  have  lately  passed,  is  at  once  present- 
ed to  our  view;  and  when  our  thoughts  run  back  to  the 
recollection  of  the  similar  periods  which  were  formerly 
allotted  us,  and  forward  to  the  uncertain  anticipation  of 
those  which  we  may  yet  hope  to  enjcy,  before  the  ter- 
mination of  our  course  upon  ea-th.  The  moment,  my 
brethren,  is  one  of  tender  feeling,  and  of  serious  reflec- 
tion ;  and  the  state  of  mind  which  it  produces  is  favour- 
able to  those  exalted  sentiments  which  detach  us  from 
mortality,  and  invigorate  our  steps  in  that  sublime  path, 
the  termination  of  which  is  in  heaven.  I  need  not, 
therefore^  apologize  for  requesting  your  attention,  at 
this  time,  to  a  few  of  those  reflections  which  moments 
such  as  the  present  call  forth. 

One  of  the  first  recollections  which  presents  itself  to 
us,  when  we  look  back  upon  the  years  that  are  past,  is 
the  remembrance  of  those  friends  and  companions, 
whose  society  constituted  their  principal  charm.  From 
some  of  these  we  have  since  been  separated,  by  their 
or  our  misconduct ;  from  others  by  absence,  and  the 
different  accidents  of  human  life  ;  from  more,  perhaps, 
by  death.  Those  among  us  who  have  lived  the  longest 
in  the  ^vorld,  must  have  the  greatest  number  of  such 
melancholy,  but  tender  recollections;  and,  from  the  sum- 
mit of  their  advanced  years,  must  behold  the  fleeting 
forms  of  their  dearest  connections  passing  in  shadowy 
review  before  them.  To  the  youngest  among  us, 
however,  some  such  remembrances  must  occur ;  some 
youthful  companion,  or  some  venerable  parent,  of  whom 


On  Redeeming  Time.  221 

death  has  deprived  them  for  ever.  They  are,  indeed,  few 
who  have  advanced  beyond  the  period  of  inflmcy .  whose 
years  have  not  carried  theni  through  some  *'  evil  days;'" 
through  some  of  those  afflictions,  which  are  the  portion 
of  our  nature,  which  leave  a  deep  trace  in  the  heart,  and 
which  improve  while  they  \vound  it.  The  recollections 
are  mournful,  my  brethren,  but  they  are  salutary  ;  they 
carry  ^^  healing  on  their  xvings,''^  and  they  advance,  v/ith 
every  revolving  year,  to  restrain,  with  gentle  force,  the 
impetuosity  of  our  passions,  or  to  rouse  the  soul  froih 
its  slumbers. 

They  tell  us,  first  of  all,  that  the  kind  affections  of  our 
nature  are  those  which  leave  the  most  durable  impres- 
sions ;  that  all  occupations  in  which  these  are  not  en- 
gaged, are  in  some  respect  foreign  from  our  hearts,  and 
do  not  voluntarily  present  themselves  to  our  memory ; 
and  that  it  is  only  when  he  loves,  and  is  beloved,  that 
man  accomplishes  the  purpose  of  his  being.  The}'  tell 
us  farther,  that  this  purpose  can  never  meet  a\  ith  its  full 
accomplishment  on  earth  ;  that  the  "  tijue  and  change 
ivhich  happen  to  all  things,''^  interrupt  likewise  the  cour^: 
of  our  tenderest  affections  ;  and  that  in  the  ruins  of  win- 
ter, with  which  the  departing  year  surrounds  him,  m;in 
is  not  only  called  to  mourn  the  decay  of  nature,  but, lit 
may  be,  the  loss  of  all  which  kindled  the  glow  of  lote 
in  his  heart.  They  tell  us,  finally,  not  to  grieve,  lite 
those  who  have  no  hope :  in  the  memory  of  dcpartki 
love  and  virtue,  the  prophecy  of  immortality  is  involt'- 
ed;  and  when  \\q  call  to  mind  the  forms  of  those  whose 
kind  oflices  \Aere  the  solace  of  our  early  years,  or  whose 
virtues  animated  our  youthful  emulation,  we  feel  that  we 
are  not  conversing  with  the  dead,  but  with  "  the  spirits 


'222  On  Redeemmg  Time. 

of  the  just  made  perfect.''''  While  these  recollections 
inform  us,  that  there  is  a  winter  of  mortality  over  which 
our  tears  have  fallen,  they  point  at  the  same  time  to  an 
eternal  spring,  when  every  tear  shall  be  wiped  away ; 
and  they  leave  us  inspired  with  the  high  and  holy  am- 
bition to  "  7-edeem  the  time''''  which  we  have  lost,  and  to 
be  no  longer  "  slothful,  but  followers  of  them  who 
through  faith  and  patience  have  'inherited  the  promises.'''' 
In  tlie  second  place,  my  brethren,  when  we  look  back 
upon  our  departed  years,  we  naturally  consider  in  what 
manner  Me  have  been  employed  in  their  course.  In  a 
review  of  this  kind,  the  best  among  us  will  be  conscious, 
that  they  "  have  left  undone  many  things  which  they 
ought  to  have  done,  and  have  done  many  things  which 
they  ought  not  to  have  done."  They  will  wonder,  in- 
deed, at  the  apparent  vacuity  which  they  have  left  be- 
hind them  ;  at  the  small  number  of  good  actions,  Vvhich 
rise  among  the  crowd  of  such  as  either  are  pernicious  or 
insignificant.  At  the  same  time,  they  will  feel  that  their 
good  actions  are  those  alone  which  they  can  have  much 
satisfaction  in  recollecting;  that  they  are  as  lamps  which 
shed  a  consoling  beani  upon  the  darkness  which  sur- 
rounds them  ;  and,  \^  hile  they  would  willingly  forget 
some  part  of  their  conduct,  and  are  indifferent  to  the  re- 
collection of  the  greater  part,  they  can  pause,  with  a  tran- 
quil sentiment  of  enjoyment,  on  those  deeds  of  light 
which  have  distinguished  their  path.  While  the  years 
that  are  past  bring  them  the  sad  remembrance  of  friends 
whom  they  have  lost,  they  bring  them  likewise  the 
soothing  information,  that  the  good  which  they  have 
done  his  made  them  other  friends  ;  and  that,  although 
the  tendcrest  strings  of  their  hearts  may  have  been  torn 


Oft  Redeeming  Time.  223 

and  shattered,  yet  the  cord  whicli  binds  them  to  the  fa- 
mily of  mankind  may  still  be  strengthened,  without  the 
hazard  of  being  broken  ! 

How  important,  then,  the  lesson  which  the  memory 
of  departed  years  may  bring  even  to  the  good !  How 
plainly  may  it  show  them,  that  the  course  upon  which 
they  have  entered  is  the  course  which  leads  to  tlie  hap- 
piness of  their  nature  ;  and  how  strongly  will  it  tcacli 
them,  that  if  they  cannot  yet  look  back  with  entire  satis- 
faction on  that  part  of  it  which  they  have  run,  it  is  only 
because  their  exertions  hitherto  have  been  unsteady,  and 
that  they  may  yet  advance  towards  higher  perfection ! 
To  those,  my  brethren,  who  are  wandering  far  from  the 
path  appointed  for  man  ;  who,  in  the  recollections  of  the 
years  that  are  gone,  find  a  melancholy  vacuity  of  "  I'/V- 
^we","  and  of  '■'■praise;'''*  whose  scattered  deeds  of  light 
only  render  more  conspicuous  the  horror  of  the  gloom 
which  they  serve  to  disclose ;  whose  labours  of  love  and 
of  duty  are  smothered  in  the  prevailing  selfishness  of  their 
hearts  ;  to  such  men,  the  season  which  now  dej^arts 
from  them  speaks  in  the  language  of  authority  and  re- 
proof. It  calls  them  to  task  for  that  scene  of  desolation 
which  it  is  forced  to  present  to  their  eyes ;  it  asks  thein 
if  such  is  the  spectacle  which  ought  to  be  presented  to 
a  moral  and  an  immortal  being;  and  whether,  in  tiie  loss 
of  friends,  in  the  wreck  of  their  reputation,  and  in  the 
increasing  wounds  of  their  spirits,  they  find  no  motives 
which  may  stimulate  them  to  the  exertion  requisite  for 
"  redeeming  the  time.''''  The  season  which  has  gone, 
points  with  a  prophetic  finger  to  that  v\  hich  is  now  be- 
ginning its  course,  and  shows  them  "  the  little  cloudy'''' 
which  may  now  seem  "  like  a  man\s  liand^''''  accumu- 


224  On  Redeemnig  Time. 

lating  a  deeper  gloom,  till  It  covers  the  heaven  with, 
blackness.  It  then  points  to  a  brighter  prospect,  to  the 
glorious  effects  of  firm  and  holy  resolution ;  to  the 
clouds  withdrawing  from  the  opening  sky  of  virtue  ;  to 
"  the  Sun  of  righteousness y  rising  with  healing  on  his 
wijigs  ;^^  and  to  that  spring  of  returning  peace  which, 
more  than  the  spring  of  the  year,  will  brighten  to  the 
eye  of  penitence  the  fair  form  of  creation,  and  will  con- 
fer a  new  lustre  on  the  beauties  of  earth  and  of  heaven  ! 
From  the  recollection  of  former  years,  my  brethren, 
we  naturally,  in  the  third  place,  look  forward  to  those 
which  are  to  come.  In  the  years  which  are  gone,  we 
all  behold  the  forms  of  those  whom  we  loved,  and 
whose  place  on  earth  knows  them  no  more  ;  we  now 
behold  them  bending  down  to  us  from  the  regions  of 
light,  and  caUing  upon  us  to  walk  in  their  steps.  In 
the  same  years,  we  behold  the  line  of  our  own  conduct 
in  many  respects  fluctuating  and  uncertain ;  in  the  best 
men,  often  deviating  into  error,  and,  in  many,  fir  in- 
deed removed  from  the  path  of  virtue  and  honour. — 
These  years  are  gone  for  ever,  and  they  can  now  be  of 
service  to  us,  only  if  they  leave  wisdom  behind  them. 
If  the  remembrance  of  oar  first  and  and  earliest  affec- 
tions restores  to  us,  in  some  measure,  the  youthful 
simplicity  of  our  hearts ;  if  the  memory  of  the  wise  and 
o'ood,  who  were  once  with  us  on  earth,  revive  in  our 
souls  the  decaying  flame  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  these 
holy  recollections  will  be  productive  of  immortal  fruits. 
If  the  errors  and  omissions  of  our  former  years,  make 
us  cautious  against  future  failings:  if  the  sense  of  our  im- 
perfect exertions  quicken  our  determination  to  amend  ; 
if,   shocked  w'nh  the  form  and  the  consequences   of 


OttRedeemmg  Time.  225 

vice,  we  now  firmly  resolve  to  persevere  in  the  road  of 
virtue,  the  departing  year  will  not  have  addressed  us  in 
vain ;  and  that  year  which  is  now  opening  upon  us,  will 
usher  in  the  "  the  redeeming  of  our  time.'*'*  Whether, 
in  its  progress,  our  heads  are  laid  in  the  dust,  or  whe- 
ther it  is  the  prelude  to  a  longer  course  of  usefulness 
and  honour,  we  shall  then  equally  live  or  die  to  God, 
in  whose  '*  hand  our  times  are.'*'*  To  those  who  will 
be  wise  now,  the  time  which  is  before  them  will,  under 
the  Providence  of  heaven,  be  sufficient  for  accomplish- 
ing the  work  which  they  have  to  do ;  but  to  those  who 
still  delay,  who  reject  the  time  of  their  acceptance,  no 
promises  are  made,  and  "  this  night  their  souls  may  he 
required  ofthem."*"* 

The  uncertainty  of  the  time  which  is  to  come,  may 
be  one  of  the  circumstances  which  the  apostle  had  in 
view,  when  he  tells  us  "  the  days  are  evil;'*'*  and  gives 
this  as  a  motive  for  activity,  in  '*  redeeming  the  time.'*'* 
There  are,  at  the  same  time,  other  circumstances  to 
which  the  expression  may  be  more  strictly  applicable. 
He  might  have  in  view  the  habits  of  increasing  years, 
which  render  a  retreat  from  evil  always  more  difficult, 
and  tend  to  benumb  the  soul  in  the  hardness  and  insen- 
sibility of  sin.  He  might  allude  to  the  infirmities  of 
life,  which  increase  upon  us  with  our  years,  and  which 
may  bring  us  suffi-Ming  and  pain,  before  we  have  formed 
the  habits  of  religious  fortitude.  He  might  perhaps 
have  more  particularly  in  view  the  "  evils  of  the  days'*'* 
in  which  he  lived  ;  the  persecutions  to  which  the  first 
Christians  were  subject ;  and  the  s]3eedy  call  which 
might  be  made  upon  them,  to  summon  up  every  prin- 
ciple of  their  fliith,  for  the  hour  of  torture  or  of  death. 

2  r 


226  Un  Redeenung  Time. 

To  all  these  circumstances,  except  the  last,  it  is  always 
our  wisdom  to  direct  our  thoughts  ;  and  to  learn  from 
them  that  prudence  which  seizes  upon  the  present  hour, 
and  puts  not  off  the  season  of  reformation  to  an  hour 
which  may  never  come,  or  which  may  come  in  vain. 

To  the  last  of  these  circumstances,  however,  our 
thoughts,  perhaps,  may  at  this  day  be  more  naturally 
directed,  than  in  any  former  period  of  our  lives ;  and 
when  we  contemplate  the  portentous  aspect  of  the  world 
around  us,  we  too  shall  be  apt  to  feel  with  the  apostle, 
that  we  have  "  follen  upon  evil  days."  It  has  been  our 
lot,  my  brethren,  to  live  in  a  period  of  fluctuation  and 
change  ;  to  witness  the  downfal  of  empires  which  were 
mighty  in  the  days  of  *'  our  fathers,  and  in  the  old  times 
before  them  ;"  and  to  see  the  sceptre  of  earthly  domi- 
nion pass  into  the  hands  of  those,  whose  fathers  were 
unknown  in  the  records  of  nations.  We  have  beheld 
the  appalling  spectacle  of  the  establishments  of  ancient 
power  giving  way  at  the  touch  of  upstart  violence :  and 
the  proud  ones  of  the  earth  bending  their  regal  fronts  at 
the  imperious  nod  of  a  plebeian  conqueror.  Year  after 
year,  as  it  passes,  adds  some  new  touches  to  the  deepl}'^ 
coloured  picture  of  human  mutability;  and  now*  even 
the  winds  and  the  waves  have  been  entrusted  with  the 
fortunes  of  kings,  as  more  to  be  depended  on  than  the 
faithless  shores  of  their  paternal  sway. 

We  have  hitherto,  it  is  true,  been  spectators  merely 
of  this  shifting  scene  ;  and  while  the  political  interests 
of  our  country  have  been  deeply  involved  in  the  fates  of 
surrounding  nations,  we  have  sate  in  quiet  in  the  dwelU 

*  Emigration  of  the  Portuguese  Court. 


On  Redeeming'  Time,  227 

iiigs  of  our  fathers,  and  listened  to  the  howling  of  the 
distant  storm.  Yet  year  after  jear  brings  the  contest 
nearer  to  ourselves ;  the  last  mortal  struggle  between 
overwhelming  oppression,  and  indignant  freedom.  The 
''  evildaijs''^  of  blood  and  desolation,  which  have  brought 
upon  the  earth  "  disfi'ess  of  nations^  with  perplexity  ; 
men''s  hearts  failing  them  for  fear  ^  and  for  looking  after 
those  things  which  are  coming  on  the  earth  ;"  seem  at  last 
to  be  gathering  over  our  heads  ;  and  in  the  hours  which 
are  now  approaching,  there  may  be  required,  from  every 
one  of  us,  no  slight  exercise  of  virtue,  and  no  vulgar 
firmness  of  faith.  The  time  may  be  on  its  wing,  when 
every  moral  and  Christian  principle  must  be  exerted  for 
our  national  salvation,  and  when  we  too  must  fall  under 
the  powers  of  darkness,  unless  we  are  clad  in  *'  the  ar- 
mour of  light.'''* 

At  the  close  of  the  last  year,  my  brethren,  we  bowed 
before  the  throne  of  a  spiritual  conqueror,  who  came 
into  the  world,  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save.  Let  us  be~ 
gin  the  present  year,  with  the  firm  resolution  to  redeem 
the  time  which  we  have  given  to  other  masters,  and 
henceforth  to  obey  his  salutary  laws  ;  so  shall  we  be 
clothed  with  the  strength  of  his  spirit;  so  shall  we  be 
nobly  prepared  for  whatever  exigence  we  may  be  doom- 
ed to  encounter;  so  alone  shall  we  be  conveyed  in  safety 
through  the  passing  tumults  of  time  ;  so  alone  shall  we 
enter  with  joy  the  tranquil  haven  of  eternity  ! 


SERMON  XXVIII. 


RELIGIOUS  MEDITATIONS. 


REV.  i.  8. 


*'  /  am  the  beginning  and  the  endings  saith  the  Lord^ 
which  is,  ajid  -which  was,  and  which  is  to  come,  the 
Almighty. ^^ 

THESE  words,  my  brethren,  elevate  our  thoughts 
to  the  highest  contemplation  of  which  our  nature  is 
capable.  They  lift  us  at  once  above  all  that  is  little 
and  all  that  is  great  upon  earth,  and  carry  us  into  the 
presence  of  that  Being  "  who  inhahiteth  eternity.'''* 
The  contemplation  may  appear,  perhaps,  too  lofty  for 
our  faculties,  and  may  seem  to  remove  us  from  the 
present  sphere  of  our  knowledge  and  of  our  duties ; 
yet,  if  we  enter  upon  it  with  due  humility,  and  seek 
not  to  "  ^^  wise  beyond  what  is  xvritten^^''  beyond  what 
is  written  on  the  hearts  of  men,  and  in  the  revelations 
of  God,  we  shall  be  sensible  that  those  high  medita- 
tions, while  they  aiford  a  sublime  occupation  to  the 
mind,  are  likewise  productive  of  reflections  useful  for 
the  conduct  of  life. 


Religious  Meditations.  -         229 

"  I  a?}i  the  beginning  (saith  the  Lord),  which  wa^." 
Our  imagination  is  here  carried  back  to  a  time  when 
the  visible  frame  of  creation  was  not  yet  unfolded ; 
when  all  the  glories  of  earth  and  of  heaven  had  not  yet 
a  being ;  and  when  that  order  of  things  which  we  call 
Nature  was  not  yet  ordained.  But  while  these  magnifi- 
cent arrangements  of  existence  were  not,  there  was  One 
from  whom  they  all  have  been  derived ;  and  however 
far  imagination  may  go  back,  while  the  earth  and  the 
heavens  vanish  from  its  eye,  it  still  beholds  the  great 
Universal  Spirit  presiding  in  the  immensity  of  his  own 
essence. 

The  next  object  which  presents  itself  to  our  thoughts 
is  the  creation  of  the  universe,  when  *'  the  Spirit  of 
God  moved  upon  the  face  of  the  deep  ;'''*  when  God  said, 
"  Let  there  he  lights  and  there  was  light  ;'''*  when  the 
sun  began  to  run  his  race ;  when  "  the  ?Tiorning  stars 
sang  together,  arid  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy. ^"^ 
We  now  behold  the  earth  peopled  with  innumerable 
living  creatures,  and  one  of  a  more  erect  form,  and  of  a 
nobler  nature,  placed  among  them  as  their  lord.  From 
this  period,  we  follow  the  history  of  man ;  and,  while 
we  witness  with  regret  the  "  many  inventions^"*  which 
he  has  found  out  for  himself,  his  constant  deviations 
from  those  pure  laws  which  his  Maker  had  established 
for  him,  we  look  up  with  delight  to  the  great  Father 
interposing  in  the  behalf  of  his  wandering  offspring,  and 
rejoice  to  see  the  fair  fruits  of  virtue  and  happiness, 
which,  amidst  all  the  corruptions  of  man,  have  been 
produced,  under  the  fostering  dew  of  heaven,  in  the 
harvest  of  human  nature.     To  some  he  sent  prophets, 


230  Religious  Meditations, 

to  some  apostles ;  some  were  instructed  by  the  light  of 
nature,  and  at  last  "  he  spoke  to  man  by  his  Son.'''' 

It  is  a  great  and  a  gratifying  reflection,  my  brethren, 
that  there  has  never  been  a  period  of  die  history  of  man 
which  has  not  been  transacted  under  the  eye  of  God  ; 
that  he  who  was  from  the  beginning  has  beheld  every 
step  which  his  children  have  made  ;  and  that  his  good 
spirit  has  ever  been  with  them,  calling  them  on  into  the 
ways  of  perfection.  It  is  interesting  to  recognize  this 
bond  of  union  connecting  the  human  race  from  their 
first  origin  to  the  present  hour  ;  to  think  that  the  God 
who  now  beholds  us  was  the  God  of  our  fathers,  and 
that  "  the  God  of  Abraham^  of  Isaac  j  and  of  Jacob''''  is 
still  the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth. 

'*  I  am  he  (saith  the  Lord)  which  is.^"*  When  we 
look  back  to  the  beginning,  my  brethren,  we  see  a  uni- 
verse bursting  into  existence.  The  creation  of  things 
is  a  work  which  astonishes  the  imagination,  and  we  in- 
stantly acknowledge  the  Maker  in  the  glory  of  the  work. 
When  we  read,  too,  in  the  pages  of  sacred  history,  we 
are  struck  with  the  relation  of  astonishing  interpositions 
of  the  divine  power  ;  and  when  we  are  informed  of  a 
path  opened  through  the  sea,  or  of  food  rained  from 
heaven,  or  of  a  dead  man  raised  to  life,  we  immediately 
recognize,  in  those  miraculous  occurrences,  the  hand  of 
the  Deity.  It  is  only  amidst  the  regularity  and  order  of 
nature,  while  no  change  is  made,  while  nothing  is  pre- 
sented to  rouse  the  imagination,  while  all  things  are  as 
they  have  been  from  the  beginning,  that  we  ever  forget 
there  is  a  God,  and  are  tempted  to  say  with  the  scoffer, 
'*  ivhere  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  ?"     But  this  very 


Religious  Meditatiojis.  231 

regularity  and  constancy  of  nature  is  the  proof  that  God 
is ;  that  he  ever  possesses  the  same  power  and  the  same 
wisdom ;  that  in  him  there  is  "wo  variableiiess  nor 
shadow  of  turning^''''  and  that  "  he  slumbers  not  nor 
sleeps.''^ 

^'- 1  am  he  (saith  the  Lord)  which  is.'*''  Docs  thy  in- 
attention or  thy  impiety,  O  man!  overlook  this  truth? 
Art  thou  insensible  to  the  present  Deity  ?  Dost  thou 
shut  thine  eyes  to  the  aspect  of  nature,  or  seest  thou  no 
traces  of  his  providence  in  the  course  of  human  affairs  ? 
Do  the  disorders  of  tiie  moral  world  confound  thee,  and 
do  tlie  miseries  of  nations  cloud  from  thy  view  the  bene- 
ficence of  God  ?  Yet,  does  not  the  sun  still  rise  in  the 
heavens,  and  continue  his  annual  course,  and  bring  the 
vicissitudes  of  seasons,  and  the  grateful  interchange  of 
night  and  day  ?  Or  if  the  book  of  providence  is  dark, 
yet,  has  not  "  the  Sim  of  righteousness''''  risen  upon  the 
earth  ?  and,  amidst  all  the  guilt  and  the  miseries  of  man- 
kind, does  not  he  shed  "  healing  from  his  wings  ?^* 

While  the  profane  or  the  superstitious  require  some 
unusual  excitement  of  the  imaghiation  before  they  can 
be  roused  to  a  sense  of  the  divine  presence,  the  man  of 
true  piety  and  reflection  feels  that  he  is  never  removed 
from  his  Father's  eye  ;  that,  wherever  he  goes,  God  is 
with  him ;  and  that  the  same  spirit  which  at  first  called 
into  existence  all  the  orders  of  being,  and  which  has 
since  superintended  and  guided  the  progress  of  the  hu- 
man race,  is  still  watching  over  his  children,  and  gather- 
ing them  under  the  wings  of  his  love. 

*'  lam  the  ending  (saith  the  Lord)  xvhich  is  to  come,''' 
We  have  beheld,  my  brethren,  the  great  Universal  Spi- 
)'it  hovering  ovrr  the  luiiverse  which  he  has  created 


232  Religious  Meditations* 

from  the  first  moment  of  time  to  the  present  hour.  The 
present  hour  is  short ;  our  time  is  on  its  wing ;  and  the 
day  will  shortly  arrive  when  we  too  shall  be  numbered 
witli  those  who  have  been.  It  is  natural  for  man  to  look 
beyond  his  own  little  sphere,  and  to  listen  to  the  voice 
which  says,  "  Come  up  hither^  and  I  will  show  thee  things 
which  must  be  hereafter.^^  The  only  ground  on  which 
our  predictions  of  futurity  can  rest  is  this,  that  what- 
ever changes  there  may  be,  God  is  to  come  ;  and  that, 
under  his  eye,  the  great  scheme  of  providence  will  go 
on  and  prosper  till  all  shall  be  accomplished.  It  is 
pleasing,  under  this  belief,  to  meditate  on  the  mighty 
things  which  will  be  transacted  upon  earth  after  our 
heads  are  laid  in  the  dust;  on  all  the  improvements 
which  will  be  made  by  the  future  races  of  men ;  and 
on  that  slow  but  steady  course  of  divine  providence,  by 
which  man  will  at  last  arrive  at  the  perfection  predicted 
by  the  prophet,  when  "  the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the  xvaters  cover  the  sea.^^ 

"■  lam  the  ending  (saith  the  Lord)."  The  time  will 
come  when  this  earth  and  all  its  inhabitants  will  be  re- 
moved, and  when  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  will 
appear.  *'  Thei'e  will  be  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of 
the  moon  to  shine  in  it^  for  the  glory  of  God  shall  lighten 
it,  and  the  Lamb  shall  be  the  light  t hereof  ^^ 

Such,  my  brethren,  are  some  of  those  lofty  contem- 
plations which  the  words  of  the  text  may  suggest  to  us. 
They  are  evidendy  the  highest  contemplations  of  our 
nature,  and  to  some,  perhaps,  they  may  seem  to  trans- 
port the  mind  of  man  beyond  the  present  humble  sphere 
of  his  duties.  It  is  indeed  true  that  our  present  part  is 
a  humble  one  ;  and  religion,  when  rightly  understood. 


lieligions  Meditations.  235 

will  never  carry  us  into  meditations  which  are  beyond 
the  reach  of  our  limited  views.  But  the  error  into  which 
men  are  so  apt  to  fall,  of  confining  their  thoughts  too 
closely  to  the  little  scene  before  them,  without  connect- 
ing it  in  their  imaginations  with  those  things  which  have 
gone  before,  and  with  the  things  which  must  be  here- 
after ;  this  vulgar  error  it  is  the  great  office  of  Religion 
to  correct ;  and  she  delights  to  point  out  that  more  ex- 
tended range  of  contemplation  which  will,  indeed,  ele- 
vate  us  somewhat  above  our  common  pursuits  or  enjoy- 
ments, but  never  above  our  duties.  There  cannot,  on 
the  contrary,  be  a  greater  call  to  the  faithful  and  stre- 
nuous discharge  of  every  duty,  however  apparently  little 
and  unnoticed,  than  the  persuasion  that  we  are  ever  in 
the  eye  of  the  Greatest  of  Beings,  of  him  "  who  is^  and 
zvas,  and  is  to  come,  the  Almightij.'''' 

Another  consideration,  my  brethren,  the  highest  and 
most  sublime  which  our  nature  can  reach,  is  suggested 
likewise  by  these  contemplations.  It  is,  that  as  God  is 
to  come,  man  shall  not  perish ;  that,  as  the  grave  is  sub- 
ject to  the  power  of  Omnipotence,  the  time  will  come 
when  the  souls  which  it  confines  w^ill  be  set  free  ;  and 
that  those  beings  who  were  endowed  with  capacity  to 
find  out  their  Maker,  \v\\\  never  lose  in  death  the  tie 
which  bound  them  to  him.  This  persuasion,  to  whicli 
nature  leads  us,  and  which  the  gospel  confirms,  levels 
at  once  all  the  little  distinctions  of  time,  and  places  every 
rank  and  condition  of  human  life  on  a  great  and  glorious 
equality. 

Art  thou  high  in  place  and  power  among  men  ?  Then 
waste  not  thy  short  and  fleeting  day  in  the  folly  of  pomp 
and  pride.     There  is  one  to  come,  the  Almighty,  bcforr. 


234  Religious  Meditations. 

whom  all  thy  petty  advantages  will  vanish  *'  like  the 
chaffs  before  the  xvind.''''  If,  in  that  day,  thou  wouldst 
stand  before  him,  "  do  justice,  love  mercy y  and  walk 
humbly  with  him.'*'' 

Art  thou  in  low  estate,  and  dost  thou  sometimes  re- 
pine that  there  are  men  whom  fortune  has  raised  above 
thee?  Are  there,  then,  no  duties  suited  to  thy  station  ? 
Dost  not  thou,  too,  act  in  the  sight  of  one  who  values 
equally  thy  condition  with  that  of  the  mightiest  ruler  of 
nations,  in  the  sight  of  him  *'  who  was  and  who  is?'*'*  and 
is  he  not  likewise  "  to  come?'*'*  and  is  there  not  a  day 
coming  in  which  he  will  reward  thee  if  thou  dost  well  ? 

These,  my  brethren,  are  the  most  useful  reflections 
to  which  we  can  accustom  our  minds,  as  well  as  the 
greatest  and  the  most  glorious.  Let  us  not  lose  them, 
therefore,  in  the  insignificance  of  worldly  things,  her 
quit  our  portion  in  the  inheritance  of  that  true  "  liberty 
7vherewith  Christ  hath  7nade  us  free.'*'' 


THE  END. 


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